


Something Bigger: Agents of SHIELD Drabble & Ficlet Collection

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance, Short, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 159
Words: 44,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my team, friendship, and less frequently written pairings drabbles and ficlets, mostly prompted via tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exile (Lance Hunter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going forward, I will be posted all of my friendship, team and less frequently written pairing drabbles here. My Skyelance, Ward x Simmons, and Skimmons drabbles all have their own collections. Everything else goes here.
> 
> I also did a previous collection of 100 drabbles/ficlets.

Lance Hunter despises Girls’ Night. Bobbi used to have them when they were married and, now that she’s joined the team, she’s continuing the tradition.

Which means he can’t touch the wine, or the chips, or the cookies Simmons spent the afternoon baking.

They smell good.

And to top it all off, he knows they’re in there talking about him. Skye’s probably telling Bobbi all the things he said about her and she’s probably making up ridiculous stories about him.

Maybe he’ll have his own Boys’ Night, and see who has the last laugh.

No one comes to Boys’ Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 6th, 2014


	2. Marry (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"I've decided to marry you."

Skye’s so taken aback she spits the water she was drinking out of her mouth and down his shirt.

"Perhaps that was poorly phrased," he admits as he grabs a kitchen towel.

"You think?"

"What I meant was that we’ve been together for two years, we’ve lived together for one, and the next logical step is marriage," he tries again.

"You’re really not selling this well."

"I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, building incredibly impressive machines for you to take out into the field and change the world with. I want to adopt that dog you keep watching on the animal shelter live feed and then have children to play with it and please don’t make me keep going you know words aren’t exactly my strong suit."

She gapes at him.

"Oh," he continues, fumbling for something bulging out of the pocket of his sweater, "and I have a ring."

She stares at the open box for a few seconds, unable to speak.

Eventually she manages a nod.

"So that’s a yes, then?" he asks, just the tiniest bit less nervous than before.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 10th, 2014


	3. Whipped Cream (Leo Fitz/Skye)

She wonders when he'll figure it out.

It’s not the most elaborate trick, but it require a lot of effort to get into his bunk.

She’s down the hall in her bunk, absently running searches on the rest of the team, so make sure they’re still flying under the radar. She leaves the door open.

She’s anxiously waiting to hear from him, to the point that she nearly misses some surveillance footage of Bobbi. But she gets it erased in the end.

She’s just wrapping up her search when she hears a loud scream for Fitz’s room, followed by her heavy footsteps heading down the hall towards her.

"Can’t you find something more original that shaving cream?" he snaps at her.

Getting up and walking over to him, she runs a finger down the foam covering the left side of his face before popping that finger in her mouth.

"It’s whipped cream," she tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 10th, 2014


	4. Taylor Swift (May & Skye & Simmons)

It’s not that May doesn’t like Skye and Simmons, they’re like family to her. It’s just that she doesn’t like grocery store runs to begin with and their off-key voices singing along to the radio only make the process worse.

She tries turning off the radio, but apparently they know every single Taylor Swift song by heart so that doesn’t make things better.

They finally get the hint when she pipes Shake It Off into their bedrooms at 4AM the morning before the next grocery run. They drive in silence.

She’s glad Koenig finally had Mack upgrade the intercom system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 18th, 2014


	5. Haul Out the Holly (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

Bobbi’s eyes are starting to blur as she reads her paper over again, looking for somewhere she can add an extra page of information and meet her professor’s requirements.

“Bobbi,” she hears Jemma call from downstairs. “I need your help.”

It’s the perfect excuse for a break, and Bobbi is taking it.

She expects to find Jemma in the kitchen, elbow deep in cake batter or cookie dough, needing Bobbi to grab an ingredient from the cupboard or respond to a text from Fitz.

Instead Jemma is the entryway, standing on a stepstool and trying to wrap a garland around the doorframe.

She’s not having much success.

“I thought we agreed no Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving,” Bobbi approaches with her arms crossed. Jemma promised to wait.

“We did. But you see, I’m English.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Bobbi’s pretty sure she can guess where Jemma’s going with this, but she’s fun to watch when she’d feeling guilty about something.

Every now and then, Bobbi enjoys making her girlfriend squirm a bit.

“And we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in England.”

“But you and I celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“At Skye’s, not here.”

“So you decided to put up Christmas decorations early?”

“I was on the phone with my mum,” Jemma begins, “and she was talking about putting up the wreaths and the stocking and lighting candles at night. I couldn’t resist. So I picked up a few things on my way home from the lab.

“A few things?”

The two boxes at Jemma’s feet are gigantic. Bobbi’s not sure how she even got them into the house.

“I didn’t buy anything for the tree. I thought we could do that together,” Jemma says.

Bobbi sighs. She should have seen this coming. In the years that she’s known Jemma, the other woman has always been something of a Christmas fanatic. In college, she once concocted fake snow to spread all over her down room.

Jemma’s roommate, Skye, had been less than enthusiastic about that particular incident.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Bobbi tries to level with Jemma. “I will help you with the garland now. But everything else waits until the weekend.”

Bobbi’s paper will be done by then, and neither of them has work. Bobbi figures it’s a small price to pay to spend a few hours listening to Christmas music and wearing the embroidered Santa hats Jemma bought last year while they decorate. She does like to see Jemma happy.

That girl can talk her into anything.

Jemma squeals happily and bounces off the stool to give Bobbi a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she sing-songs.

Jemma then directs Bobbi to wrap the red tinsel garland along the doorframe, careful to make the corners look as sharp and possible. Their high ceilings and doorways mean even Bobbi has to stand on the stepstool to reach.

“On more thing,” Jemma says, after Bobbi’s finished sticking the last bit of garland to the door.

“Jemma,” Bobbi warns.

“Well if you don’t want to do mistletoe…” the other woman trails off.

Bobbi is definitely willing to put up mistletoe, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

“Could you hand it to me?” she instructs Jemma.

The second Jemma is within reach, Bobbi makes a grab for her. She effortlessly swings Jemma up onto the stool while stepping down from it to accommodate for their height difference.

Technically, they should wait until the mistletoe is hanging above their heads, not clutched in Jemma’s hand.

But Bobbi’s never been a stickler for rules the way Jemma is.

She leans over and kisses Jemma’s lip, lingering briefly before pulling away. But kissing Jemma is thoroughly addictive, so she leans back in, nibbling gently on Jemma’s lower lip as she deepens the kiss.

They’re going to get a lot of use out of that mistletoe this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 19th, 2014


	6. Freezing (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“It’s freezing in here,” Bobbi yells, dropping her keys in the bowl by the front door.

Jemma doesn’t answer, which is unusual. Usually when Bobbi gets back from a business trip, Jemma’s waiting with open arms. Sometimes there’s even a cake. Or a pie. Or cream puffs. The cream puffs are Bobbi’s favorite.

At first Bobbi thinks she must have stayed late at the lab, but then she notices the light on in the bedroom. The temperature can wait, Bobbi wants to see Jemma.

When she opens the bedroom door, she finds Jemma in bed with her headphones plugged into the computer. That explains why she didn’t hear Bobbi come in. She’s also covered in what Bobbi’s pretty sure is every single blanket they own. That would explain the fact that their apartment is freezing.

Kind of.

“Honey, I’m home,” Bobbi sing-songs, gently pulling an earbud out of Jemma’s ear.

“Bobbi,” Jemma sits up. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.”

That’s odd. Bobbi was always scheduled to get back on the twentieth and Jemma’s pretty meticulous with their calendar.

“No, definitely today. You okay?”

Between the forgetfulness and the giant mound of blankets on the bed, Bobbi’s worried that Jemma might have come down with something.

“I’m fine,” Jemma insists. “I just… missed you.”

She sound embarrassed to admit that, but Bobbi’s pretty sure she can feel her heart swell.

It’s nice to be missed. And it’s nice to have someone to come home to, even if she is mostly hidden by a giant pile of blankets.

“Well, make some room then,” Bobbi says, kicking off her shoes to climb into bed next to Jemma.

The temperature is much more comfortable once she’s under the covers.

Bobbi leans her head on Jemma’s shoulder to take a look at whatever Jemma was watching on her computer. It looks like a documentary. That can wait.

Bobbi snakes an arm around Jemma’s waist and nuzzles into the soft fabric of Jemma’s sweater, a sweater that smells decidedly unlike Jemma’s usual lavender and trace hints of ammonia.

Bobbi cranes her neck back to get a better look at Jemma’s sweater. It’s bright blue with gold stars on it, and it’s actually Bobbi’s. It completely overwhelms Jemma.

She looks adorable, which Bobbi vaguely notes, but mostly it acts as a signal to Bobbi that maybe Jemma missed her even more than she’s letting on.

Bobbi resolves to be a little more careful with the number of business trips she takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 20th, 2014


	7. Noisy Neighbors (Leo Fitz/Grant Ward)

The first time, they just try to sleep through it. Ward, somehow, can sleep through anything. Fitz, on the other hand, gives up after two hours of tossing and turning and spends the rest of the night reading a book in the living room.

When the neighbors finally turn off their music and go to bed, Fitz manages to get two hours of sleep himself.

Ward thinks he’s gotten off easy, but a sleep deprived Fitz isn’t exactly a pleasure to live with.

So the second time the upstairs neighbors throw a raucous party (compete with what Fitz insists must be horses clomping around), they have to do something about it.

“You could go talk to them, ask them to keep it down,” Fitz suggests.

“You’re just as capable of that as I am,” Ward argues.

“I am a small Scottish man with no upper body strength to speak of,” Fitz points out. “You are an intimidating giant. If we needed to send someone up there to build a robot out of household items, then I would volunteer in an instant. But sadly, this is your area of expertise.”

But Ward’s had a long day, and he really doesn’t want to get off the couch.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests.

“Fine,” Fitz agrees. This is a test of brains, and he certainly has more of them.

Ward chooses rock.

Fitz chooses scissors.

“You’re easy to read,” Ward explains.

That and Jemma told him Fitz always chooses scissors.

“Why don’t we just go up together,” Fitz sounds a little panicked and Ward relents.

They climb the stairs and knock on the door. It opens just a little and a large man, a good half a foot taller than Ward, sticks his head out. There’s a large scar running down the right side of his face.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks in what Ward places as a Russian accent.

“Yes, we live downstairs,” Fitz begins, trying to ignore the fact that he definitely hears a horse neighing on the other side of the door.

“and we just wanted to introduce ourselves,” Ward cuts him off. Something is not right about this man and Ward knows better than to start a potential argument.

Fitz is confused, but he plays along, giving them his name and sticking out his hand to shake.

The Russian man stares at them, like he’s evaluating them.

“We are busy,” he finally responds, and slams the door in their faces.

They break the lease on their apartment the next morning. It’s expensive, but better than living under whatever illegal farm animal trading ring they imagine is going on upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 22nd, 2014


	8. Thanksgiving (OT7/Team Bus)

For a brief moment, Jemma considers the possibility that forces beyond her control are conspiring against her Thanksgiving plans. Forces that happen to be the upstairs neighbors, determined to run every single electronic device they own at the same time, but forces beyond her control nonetheless.

“Looks like the whole block is out,” Fitz calls from the window. It doesn’t make her feel any better.

She’s still standing in the dark, in front of a hot oven, with a just finished turkey she can’t see to move.

Moments later, a flashlight flicks on in the living room.

“Who carries a flashlight around in their pocket?” Skye remarks.

“It’s attached to my keys,” Ward responds. “And you’re welcome.”

He walks over to the kitchen, followed by Trip, and hands Jemma the flashlight. She hands both men oven mitts and directs them as they lift either side of the roasting pan and move it to the top of the stove.

“Stop freaking out,” Trip tells her. She was certain she was hiding her panic well. Maybe he just knows her that well. “All the food is cooked, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll just have to eat in the dark, no big deal.”

She nods, although she’s not certain how well that’s going to work.

Luckily, that’s when Coulson steps in, so she doesn’t have to try and coordinate it.

“Jemma,” he asks, “where do you keep the candles.”

“There are some in the china cabinet, and more on my dresser if you need them. Oh and there’s another flashlight behind you, under the sink.”

Coulson grabs the flashlight and passes it off to Skye, directing her to grab the candles. While they’re all waiting for her to return, Jemma uses Ward’s flashlight to grab the matches from one of the kitchen cupboards.

Skye comes back with an armful of candles, and she, Fitz, and May start lighting them all and distributing them around the kitchen and living room.

“Okay Trip, you take care of the turkey,” Coulson directs, once all the candles are in place. “Skye, you’re in charge of place settings. Fitz and Ward, you two start bringing the food out.”

Everyone gets to work, pausing only when Coulson asks what they all want to drink.

Jemma’s worries subside, until she remembers all the desserts she’s prepared.

“Ugh,” huffs to herself, “I put all that time into apple pie and there’s no way to heat it up. And the ice cream is probably melting already.”

A comforting hand on her shoulder jolts Jemma from her thoughts.

“It’s just pie, Jemma. There are plenty of other desserts and the ice cream will be fine,” May tells her.

“But it’s not really Thanksgiving without apple pie,” Jemma protests. At least that’s what Ward told her. It’s her first Thanksgiving that doesn’t involve her and Fitz eating turkey sandwiches and watching movie marathons. She wanted it to be perfect.

“Family is what makes Thanksgiving,” Coulson tells her solemnly, “and I’ve got all of mine right here.”

Skye makes exaggerated gagging noises, but Jemma thinks the sentiment is sweet. May smiles fondly at his words, so she thinks she must too.

It takes a bit of shuffling to get them all seated at the table, but they manage.

“Who wants to say grace?” Coulson asks. When they all look awkwardly at each other and no one volunteers, she just sighs good naturedly and says, “Dig in, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 25th, 2014


	9. Mouse (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Fitz,” Skye pops her head into the doorway of their home office to get his attention.

“Like I told you an hour ago,” he replies in a distract, even tone, not looking up from his work, “I’m doing two things at once, so it’s going to take a while. If you want it done quicker, we both know you’re perfectly capable of installing it.”

Various pieces of Skye’s computer are laid out on one side of his worktable, while their vacuum cleaner is disassembled on the other. Fitz is trying to increase the suction on it.

Yes, Skye’s getting antsy without her laptop to keep her occupied (she’s not sure what Fitz is running on his, but it’s so slow), but that’s not what she’s here about.

“Did you take Henry out of his cage?” she asks.

Sometimes Fitz likes to talk to the mouse while he works, he says it helps his thought process to speak to someone or something.

“Nope,” Fitz still doesn’t look up.

“Well he’s not there and there’s a rustling sound coming from the closet.”

It’s not that Skye hate rodents, it’s just that she never thought she’d own one as a pet. But Fitz has had Henry since before she met him, so it’s not like Skye could demand Fitz get rid of him when they moved in together. Besides, Henry occasionally let’s her dress him in doll clothes and take photos to send to friends, and she gets a kick out of that.

So as long as Henry stays in his cage or on Fitz’s side of the office, he and Skye get along just fine.

But having Henry in her closet, gnawing on her clothes just isn’t going to fly.

Not that Fitz has noticed her distress. He’s rolled his chair to the other end of the table and is now measuring a bunch of the vacuum cleaner notes.

“Could you go get him?” she prompts. “Before he eats one of my shirts?”

“Just… one… second,” Fitz says, taking notes on a pad of paper.

Skye makes the most exasperated face that she can manage and waits for Fitz to finish with his notes, all the while imagining Henry nibbling on her favorite pair of jeans. Thankfully that expensive sweater Jemma bought her for Christmas is currently hung up to dry in the laundry room.

“He’s not going to eat your clothes,” Fitz tells her when he finally tears his eyes away from his work. “He just likes it in there because it’s cozy.”

“Yes, the mouse likes to snuggle. You’ve mentioned this before. But he has his own cage with an igloo and a hammock and plenty of woodchips. He doesn’t need to curl up in my clothes.”

“Substrate,” Fitz corrects her, “not woodchips.”

“Fine. Can you return him to the substrate?”

It takes Fitz a good fifteen minutes of digging through the closet to find Henry. He’s managed to climb into their laundry basket, so they have to carefully remove each piece of dirty clothing and check for him.

Once he’s safely back in his cage, Fitz returns to his work.

Skye leans in so her forehead is pressed against the cage bars.

“If you do this again, Henry, I’m taking away your hammock.”

Fitz probably wouldn’t let her, but the mouse doesn’t know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written November 20th, 2014 but accidentally not uploaded in order


	10. Hero (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

Bobbi’s assuring the man she just pulled out of a collapsing building that she does not, in fact, have superpowers, when she hears Jemma sigh dramatically into the comms. Jemma sighs dramatically on a regular basis, and Bobbi’s come to recognize a tone in them.

"Something bothering you?" she asks.

"Oh nothing, just enjoying another round of listening to grown men cry over what a hero my girlfriend is," Jemma responds.

"And that’s a bad thing?" Bobbi asks. She could live without the praise, but it’s nice to have someone acknowledge the fact that what she does for a living requires a certain amount of skill.

"I never said that," Jemma protests.

"But that tone definitely did."

"Fine, it’s just… you couldn’t have made it through a burning building without the freeze ray that I built or the rebreather… that I also built."

Technically, Jemma co-built those with Fitz, but Bobbi’s pretty sure that pointing that out wouldn’t go over well.

Jemma’s not usually one to beg for credit, in fact she usually tries to downplay her Shield tech achievements, so Bobbi’s not really sure what this is all about.

"Trust me, I know I’d be dead at least ten times over if it wasn’t for your invention," Bobbi assures her.

"Someone should tell that to Agent Culkin," Jemma huffs. "He keeps telling me what a liability I am in the field."

That explains it.

"You could tell him about how you infiltrated Hydra," Bobbi suggests, knowing full-well that Jemma can’t actually tell him about that. Still, it’ll fluff Jemma’s ego, and that’s her primary concern. Culkin can be dealt with later.

"Unfortunately," Jemma starts, "we both know that I can’t."

She sounds calmer though, so it looks like Bobbi’s words are effective.

"Or you could send him into the field without fully functional tech. He’s pretty reliant on those heat-signature glasses you made," Bobbi makes another suggestion.

"You have no idea how tempting that is. But it would be incredibly unprofessional and put all the other, more respectful agents in harm’s way."

"Fine, then I’ll just punch him in the face when I get back," it would be the easiest way to solve the problem.

"Oh no, I can’t have you do that," Jemma insists. "I’m the one who would have to treat him after all."

Bobbi tries to picture that, and it’s pretty amusing.

"Fine, I won’t punch him him in the face," Bobbi promises.

She’s still going to have a word or two with him.


	11. Silence (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Fitz definitely considers himself the least qualified person on the Bus when it comes to offering comfort. Jemma or Coulson would probably be best in this situation. Trip always knows the right thing to say. And May might not talk a lot, but she’s an expert in small gestures.

But right now, everyone else is occupied, emergency levels of occupied.

He lurks in the doorway to Skye’s bunk, trying to think of what the appropriate response is.

She’s crying, that much he knows. And he doesn’t blame her. Her father’s willing to sacrifice anything and everything to get her, and he’s just confirmed that the mother she’s been holding out hope of finding is dead.

Blankets.

That’s it, blankets. When Fitz is sick, or tired, or that weird simultaneous sick and tired and wired feeling he gets when he has too much caffeine while trying to stay up and finish an important project, curling up under a blanket always helps a bit.

He walks to his own bunk and pulls the comforter off his bed, before returning to Skye’s. He knocks gently on the door, noting that it’s not fully closed.

“I’m fine,” Skye calls, clearly trying to mask the tears in her voice.

Fitz slowly pushes the door open anyway.

Skye looks up at his entrance and her eyes are red and swollen. Her breath is still coming in gasps, although the actual tears seem to have stopped.

He doesn’t say anything, he can’t think of anything to say that would help. He just sits next to her and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. His hands are still fidgeting with the blanket, when she leans and starts sobbing against his chest.

He can’t help but feel uncomfortable; situations like this aren’t his strong suit. But at least he’s pretty sure what to do any this point. He rubs the hand still resting on Skye’s shoulder back and forth, hoping she finds the repetitive motion soothing.

It takes a while, but eventually her sobbing slows down and then ceases all together. She moves her head so her ear is leaning against him, rather than her forehead. Then she just rests there.

Fitz might not be the ideal person for the situation, but he thinks he managed pretty well. Skye seems to be doing better (although better is a small thing, given the situation), and that’s what really matters.


	12. Blood (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

Jemma’s a little taken aback when Bobbi refuses the topical anesthetic she offers. The wound on her shoulder is quite large and it’s going to require a lot of stitches after she gets it cleaned up. Who in their right mind would want to go throughout without something to take the edge off?

But that’s Bobbi’s decision to make, so Jemma grabs her supplies and gets to work.

Bobbi’s stone-faced while Jemma cleans up the blood. Luckily, it hasn’t dried into the fabric of the other woman’s shirt, so it’s not as painful as it could be.

She even makes it three stitches in before she lets out a long stream of curses.

Bobbi has a mouth like a sailor.

Jemma pauses in the middle of her work to look up at Bobbi with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” Bobbi apologizes.

“It’s quite alright,” Jemma tells her. “Are you sure you don’t want the anesthetic?”

“No, I can handle it,” Bobbi promises.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” the scientist tells her. “But why would you want to?”

Bobbi insists that she’ll be fine and Jemma gets back to work. The specialist grimaces and curses under her breath as Jemma stitches her would shut, but Jemma just ignores it.

Later that night, Jemma overhears Bobbi confessing to Trip that she refused the shot in an attempt to impress Jemma.

How ridiculous, Jemma thinks to herself. There’s nothing impressive about putting oneself through unnecessary pain.

There are, however, plenty of other impressive things about Bobbi Morse. Maybe if Jemma mentions a few of those, Bobbi will be less inclined to do something as silly as get twenty stitches without something to kill the pain.


	13. Fairy Tale (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Fitz does not consider himself the hero of the story. If this was a fairy tale, he’d be a sorcerer or a clever kitchen boy or something along those lines. Maybe a smith, he does make a lot of weapons.

Smiths don’t save the day. They provide the sword the hero uses to slay the dragon and save the princess and save the day.

And the body armor he designed is more of a shield than a sword. There’s nothing exciting about shields anyway (unless you count the big SHIELD, but the organization doesn’t exist in fairy tales).

But when he watches his armor deflect bullets as Skye makes her way through a Hydra lab, he kind of feels like a hero. It’s his work that’s keeping her alive in there (and, of course, her own smarts and training). Without his armor, they wouldn’t be able to get the intel they so desperately need.

Fitz has argued the importance of his tech with many a specialist, but that doesn’t keep him from feeling like a supporting character.

He’s helping Skye remove the body armor, back at the Bus, when she kisses him on the cheek.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she tells him. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“Technically, you’re the one in the armor, and it’s not that reflective,” he jokes.

But he still feels amazing.


	14. Mischief Managed (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“So all we have to do is sent an electrical pulse and it explodes?” Skye asks.

“Exactly,’ Fitz replies. These days he works with plenty of people who don’t have his scientific background, but few of them grasp his explanations as quickly as Skyedoes.

“I assume you’ll have no trouble doing that,” she tells him.

He nods, “I could probably do it in my sleep. I’m tempted to try, actually”

“What do you think would happen if we added dye to the mix?”

Fitz walks across the lab and opens one of the cabinets, “It would depend on what kind of dye and how concentrated it was.” He pulls a bottle off the shelf and checks the label. “This should do the trick. Just don’t tell Simmons that I took this.”

“Borrowed,” Skye corrects him. “Unless we’re using the whole thing, then you were probably right with took.”

The Playground is bigger than the bus, which gives them more freedom. But it also houses more people, which makes it easier for them to get caught. But most importantly, it gives them more targets.

Like Lance Hunter, mercenary turned teammate.

Skye still hasn’t gotten him back for shooting her with an ICER, and this is the perfect opportunity. She’s originally been hoping to shoot him back, or maybe use of the dendrotoxin grenades, but when May shot him with an actual bullet, Skye knew she couldn’t top that. So rather than go for physical pain, she decided to try embarrassing him. And if Fitz is willing to be her partner in crime, then that just ups the stakes. The man knows how to do some serious damage to the ego.

Lucky for them, Hunter’s a pretty easy target.

No one on the base drinks more beer than he does, and it doesn’t require much warning to convince Mack and Bobbi to refrain for an evening.

Skye keeps watch while Fitz open the beer bottles in the fridge, drops the chemical packs in, and reseals them. It only takes him a few minutes to do the entire six-pack.

Then they just have to set themselves up in the kitchen and wait.

Hunter grabs a bottle just before dinner. He’s not even out of the kitchen when Skye hits the button that triggers the electrical pulse.

The cap of the bottle explodes up, dousing Hunter from head to chest in beer and blue dye.

He curses loudly, then mutters something about getting back at Trip, or Mack, or Bobbi, or whoever did this.

Fitz and Skye are sitting right there, and he still doesn’t suspect them. Still, they suppress their laughter for a minute and put on their most horrified faces.

Hunter stomps off, and minutes later, they hear an angry yell from the bathrooms. He must have just seen his face.

It’s a nontoxic combination of chemicals, but soap and water won’t get rid of the dye on his face. Fitz know Jemma has a solution that will take care of it, but Hunter will just have to look like a smurf until his next mission.

Fitz and Skye exchange high fives and finally get a good laugh in. They’ll have to cop to it eventually, but Coulson will probably let them off easily.

After all, he let May get away with shooting Hunter.


	15. Sacrifice (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

After living on the Bus for so long, Jemma has come to value her personal space. Sharing such a small home base with six people (now nine) means she barely has room to breathe, never mind to just be by herself. Her bunk is a safe haven.

But when she spots Bobbi awkwardly spread out on an armchair in the lounge, where she, Hunter, and Mack are apparently sleeping (Trip claimed Ward’s old bunk before any of them joined the team), Jemma feels sorry for her. She has a hard enough time getting comfortable on one of those, and Bobbi’s over half a foot taller than she is.

Besides, the blankets on Jemma’s bed are so thin, she’s actually more comfortable with Bobbi there to keep her warm.

Curled up in bed, with Bobbi’s face nestled into the crook of her neck, Jemma can’t help but feel it’s totally worth it to sacrifice her personal space every now and then.


	16. Expectations (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“This could go horribly wrong,” he tells her.

The thought has crossed Skye’s mind, but more because she knows it would devastate Fitz if he messed this up and less because she’s actually concerned it will.

“Psyching yourself out like this definitely isn’t helping,” she reminds him.

She doesn’t want to leave, in case he needs anything. But she doesn’t want to hover either, because she knows that will just piss him off. She settles for standing just outside the doorway to the lab, where she can hear him if he needs anything, but he can’t actually see her.

At one point she hears a concerning amount of loud banging, so she sticks her head into the room.

Whatever the noise is, Fitz doesn’t seem too worried about it. Skye ducks out before he can see her.

“Skye, you can come in now,” he yells after about a half an hour.

Maybe she didn’t duck out quite fast enough.

“How’d it go?” she asks as she enters the room.

“Well I didn’t blow myself up, so I’d say I exceeded expectations,” he tells her.

It’s not a complete return to his former self-confidence, but she’ll take it.


	17. Breaking the Rules (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“Are you absolutely cert—“

“Yes, Jemma I am one hundred percent sure that there’s nothing in the Shield handbook that forbids sex in the supply closets,” Bobbi assures her.

“Sex in the supply closets? I thought we were just making out,” Jemma pretends to play innocent but, as usual, she’s a terrible liar.

“The same way we were just making out in your bunk?” Bobbi raises an eyebrow at her.

“My bunk is a much nicer place to just make out that the communal bathroom,” Jemma returns Bobbi’s raises eyebrow before muttering to herself, “it’s like you want to get caught.”

“That’s half the fun,” Bobbi teases and she gets to work on the buttons on Jemma’s blouse.

“True,” Jemma reluctantly agrees. “But you should really give up on Coulson’s office. There may not be a written rule against it, but that’s just disrespectful.”


	18. Annoyance (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Fitz is frustrated with his progress. Skye’s well aware. The entire team is well aware.

But she’s not a saint, and after the third time he snaps at her she just leaves the lab. She’s got plenty of her own work to do, and he’s going to take his exasperation out on her, then she’ll just focus on that.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t worry. She even checks the camera feed to the lab a few times to make he’s okay. And he seems to be. He throws his tools down a bit hard when he’s done with them, but as far as Skye can tell, he’s managing.

She works through dinner; she’s got her own frustrations to deal with. The internet is full of the word Kree, but very little of it coincides with useful information.

If the room had window’s Skye would know that it’s dark out right now. The only signal she gets, though, of how much time has passed is a knock on the door. She looks at the clock on her computer and it’s nearly nine.

She opens the door expecting Trip or May or Simmons, or maybe even Coulson if he’s not too busy.

But it’s Fitz, holding a plate of what looks to be scrambled eggs and toast. They really need more people who can cook well on the base.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he holds the plate out to her. “I didn’t mean to be such an…” he trails off, and Skye’s worried that this another one of the brain blank-outs he’s been having since he woke up from the coma, “ass.” He finds the word very quickly through.

“It’s fine,” she tells him. She understands why it happens, she just can’t deal with it all the time. Not when he insists on pushing everyone away.

“I’d promise not to do it again, but I think we both know I probably wouldn’t be able to keep it,” he laughs a little as he says it. He almost sounds like his old self.


	19. Starvation (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“I told you this was unnecessary,” Bobbi says as Jemma pulls her into the kitchen.

“Multiple times,” Jemma confirms, “but you’ve stopped letting me look at your injuries—“

“Because you were being way too forceful with the narcotic painkillers,” Bobbi protests.

“That’s not relevant,” Jemma dismisses Bobbi’s claims with a wave of her hand. “The point is, since you’re no longer letting me take care of you medically, you’re going to let me cook for you.”

That sound an awful lot like an order to Bobbi, and she isn’t thrilled about that, but she lets it slide. Jemma a good cook, and Bobbi’s not one to turn down food.

“Fine,” she agrees, although she makes it sound reluctant. Jemma’s needed in the lab, so Bobbi won’t be encouraging this cooking habit of hers.

At least that’s what she says until she takes a bit of the steak Jemma’s prepared (marinated in a wine sauce and served with garlic mashed potatoes and steamed green beans, although how Jemma knows that’s her favorite meal, Bobbi has no clue).


	20. Divorce (Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse)

Honestly, he doesn’t care about the house. It’s not like either of them has spent much time in it. Hell, most of their boxes aren’t even unpacked.

He’s not sure why they’re bothering with these meetings. The most reasonable thing to do would be to sell everything and split the money. It’s what he should be arguing for.

Then again, the most reasonable thing to do would have been not marrying a bloody spy in the first place.

But they thought they could make it work. They’d thought it would be comforting to have someone who understood the stresses of their unconventional jobs.

It didn’t end up working like that.

Which is why they’re here now, in some lawyer’s office, arguing about cars they bought to look inconspicuous, and an armoire they never actually filled with anything.

It’s ridiculous. But it’s the most he’s seen her in months.

And if he’s honest with himself (which he puts a lot of effort into not being), that’s why he’s here.


	21. Boss (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

When she first meets Dr. Simmons, Bobbi’s convinced it will be impossible to work under her. For starters, she’s definitely younger than Bobbi, and a good half a foot shorter. Plus, she never stops smiling. She always seems happy.

Bobbi’s so used to grouchy old professors, some of which haven’t been subtle about their feelings regarding women in science, that she’s not sure she can take someone like Dr. Simmons—call me Jemma—seriously.

But then Sunil Bakshi, one of the other interns, makes a joke about Jemma being too fragile to work in a high-pressure environment. Jemma tells him about her experience Shield Lab’s weapons division. And then she makes him spend the rest of the day doing atomistic attribute drills.

Bobbi’s opinion of Jemma is altered.

Now Bobbi’s got a giant crush on her boss, and it’s all she can do to focus on her projects with Jemma looking over her shoulder (or around it, really).

So it’s still pretty hard to work under her.


	22. Soulmates AU (Leo Fitz/Skye)

When Leopold Fitz is ten, he comes home from school one day with the word ‘Fuck’ written across his left wrist. He doesn’t even notice it, but his mother certainly does.

She scrubs at his wrist as she asks him which of the boys at school taught him such foul language. He opts not to tell her that he’s ten, the boys at school have been using that word for years.

The ink doesn’t come off.

Apparently, the first word his soulmate will say to him is ‘fuck.’

It’s easy enough to cover with a watch, so Fitz doesn’t think about it that often for the next few years.

When he’s thirteen, he gets picked last to play football during PE.

“Fuck,” the team captain, who is also the new boy in school, mutters under his breath.

Fitz spends three days building up the courage to talk to his new soulmate, eventually managing a stilted, “I can help you with that,” when he spots the boy, Kevin, struggling with his maths homework.

“No thanks,” Kevin mumbles, and reaches to turn the page of his textbook.

His jacket pulls up to reveal the words ‘vodka neat’ across the back of his arm in neat cursive.

It’s a false alarm.

—

The second time Fitz thinks he’s found his soulmate, he’s seventeen and sitting in the first meeting of his chemistry lab at Uni.

A guy two seats over knocks over a beaker full of a weak acid, and it spills on the girl sitting between them.

“Fuck,” she curses, as she quickly shimmies out of her cardigan.

Technically, she’s not even saying it to Fitz, but it still puts him on edge.

He’s silent as he helps her check clean up the mess, and eventually she asks if something’s wrong.

He undoes the buckle on his watch and holds his wrist up for her to see, still silent.

“Well then, let’s see if you’ve got mine,” he prompts with a smile.

“At least it was just your jumper,” is the first thing that comes to mind.

Her smile falters, “Sorry, no.”

In the end, though, she proves to be the only person in the class who can keep up with him, so Fitz and Jemma hit it off. They become practically inseparable, despite working in different science fields. They complement each other well, both in the lab and outside of it.

With her by his side, Fitz stops feeling so anxious about meeting his soulmate. Having Jemma is enough.

—

He’s twenty-six when he actually does meet his soulmate.

After obtaining their doctorates, both Fitz and Jemma are offered spots in a lab. It’s not the most glamorous or best paying of the offers they’ve received, but it’s the only one that allow them to continue working together, so they don’t hesitate to take it.

It also has them dealing with materials dangerous enough to warrant weekly security checks.

Of course, Jemma calls in sick on one of the most important days in Fitz’s life. She was out yesterday too, and there isn’t much Fitz can do until she gets him the results from her testing. So he’s cleaning when the security agent comes in.

He doesn’t even notice her until he hears a soft thud.

When he turns to look in the direction the noise came from, he sees a woman sitting on the ground, drenched in the dye he’d left sitting out on one of the tables.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fuck,” she curses loudly.

Fitz’s breath hitches in his throat.

“What is this?” she asks. “It’s not going to poison me, is it?”

They’re easy to answer questions, which Fitz is silently thankful for.

“It’s dye, you’ll be fine,” he tells her. “I can’t say the same for your shirt, though.”

She’s wearing dark trousers, but her shirt is was light blue, although now it’s mostly dark purple.

The woman’s eyes widen and her right hand moves involuntarily to touch her left hip.

“Shit,” she curses again. “I think you’re my soulmate.”

That wasn’t exactly the reaction Fitz was hoping for.


	23. Teacher/Single Parent AU (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

Jemma really should not be looking forward to parent-teacher conferences. They’re long and tedious, and they keep her from quality time with her tv and a glass of wine.

But this year she is.

And if that has anything to do with Bobbi Morse, PTA Vice President and the mother of her student Amy, Jemma’s certainly not going to admit it.

Really, it’s just because it’s nice to finally have a parent who cares enough to be concerned about her daughter’s out of character slip in grades, rather than just accuse Jemma of doing something wrong (seriously, the number of parents who blame Jemma’s teaching methods is ridiculous. If 90% of the class is managing, the fault is not in the curriculum).

It’s definitely not because Bobbi let it slip at the last school basketball game that she’s been happily divorced for years and is looking to get back in the dating game.

Okay, it totally is. But the last part of that message was delivered with a sly wink at Jemma, and multiple mentions of their shared taste in movies.

And besides, Amy’s grades are on the mend. She’s going to pass this class. And in two months, she won’t be Jemma’s student anymore.

Which means Jemma won’t have any conflict of interest to prevent her from dating Bobbi.


	24. Bearing Bad News (Team & Trip)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This references the character death in last night's midseason finale

In the end, they decide to all go together. Because they owe it to him. Because he was their friend, their family. Because as much as it’s going to hurt, every one of them is willing to endure that if it means they can find just one more little piece of him to hold onto.

She knows the moment she sees them, before Coulson can even introduce himself. The looks on their faces give them away. There’s only one reason why a team of strangers with faces so grim would show up at her door.

This isn’t the first time she’s seen those looks. Years ago, when her son was just a boy, she received similar news. It doesn’t hurt any less the second time.

Mothers are not supposed to outlive their sons.

She doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything, she just lets them in, ushers them from the entryway to the living rooms, mumbles something about refreshments.

They all decline.

The living room is full of photos. Black and white ones of men in military uniforms. Those same men, older, posing with families. Group reunions so large that you can’t make out the individual faces in the photos. Photos taken with word leaders, hung next to the medals and awards brought home on those nights.

But there are just as many photos of him. Baby photos, first day of school photos, birthday photos. One of him at the age of seven, decked out in his grandfather’s dress uniform. Age eight, the last photo of him with his father, taken before he left for a fight he never returned from. Sweeter, at age thirteen with his mother, before his first school dance. He went alone, refused to be a wallflower, danced with every girl. High school graduation. Academy graduation. The photos of that are fewer and farther between, but everyone in them smiles just as brightly.

It’s a small comfort for both sides to see how much he was loved. It shows in the photos and in their faces as they take seats across from her. Coulson stands to the right and May perches next to him on the arm of the couch. Then Skye, Jemma, and Fitz, all huddled together. The open spot on the left arm should be his, but he’s not there to fill it.

They’re all mourning, it’s easy to see.

“Mrs. Triplett,” Coulson begins softly, trying to be as comforting as possible, although there isn’t much he can offer, “I wish we were here under better circumstances…”


	25. Goodbyes (Jemma Simmons/Antoine Triplett)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References the character death in last night's midseason finale

There isn’t enough logic in the world to make Jemma do it. She knows that everything that made Trip himself is gone. His heart’s not beating, his brain’s not firing. Hell, she can’t even tell the difference between his brain and his heart; every last part of him has been reduced to ash.

He’s never going to smile, or laugh, or make a joke for the purpose of seeing her smile and laugh ever again. He’s gone.

She just can’t say goodbye to Trip, let go enough to let the remains in front of her just be a science experiment.


	26. Camp Counselors AU (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

Trip isn’t surprised when he wakes up to find a giant sign hanging outside his cabin reading ‘you’re going down’ in bold red letters.

Skye did always take Color Wars a bit too seriously.

“Don’t worry guys,” he assures his cabin of eight to ten year olds, “they’re just trying to psyche us out. We all know they’re the ones who should be worried.”

That’s all the encouragement they need to change out of their pajamas and run down to the lake chanting, “blue team, blue team,” at the top of their lungs.

Trip’s blue team takes the swimming race, but Skye’s read team wins the spring. Their victory dance is hilarious, if a little inappropriate for kids that age. Trip watches as Camp Director Coulson’s face turns red with embarrassment.

Lucky for Skye, parents don’t show up until tomorrow.

The egg-and-spoon race goes to Trip’s team. Their victory dance is way cooler, if Trip ignores the fact that he skinned his knee sliding across the grass.

Surprisingly, neither the red nor the blue team wins the three-legged race. Skye and Trip both protest, though, because Mack basically carried his camper for the entire race to ensure a green team win.

They break for lunch, and Trip notices that Skye’s campers aren’t mingling like his and Mack’s are. This is supposed to be a fun game to foster inter-cabin unity, and they’re taking it way too seriously, but what can he do?

His skinned knee comes back to haunt him during the whole-team dance competition. Skye’s team takes that one with an elaborate Backstreet Boys number, even though none of her campers are old enough to even know who the Backstreet Boys are.

That leaves the red and blue teams tied leading into the final event, the tug-of-war.

Neither Trip nor Skye is allowed to participate. Trip likes to think this is because Coulson knows how much stronger he is that Skye, but Skye points out that’s the rule even when the counselors are more evenly matched.

They each stand next to their team and cheer loudly.

“Come on Sammy, you can do it,” Trip singles out a girl towards the back of his group who looks near tears. She smiles as his acknowledgement and refocuses.

Slowly, they pull the red team towards the center line. It’s only a couple of feet, but it’s a struggle. The teams are very evenly matched.

Trip thinks he has it in the bag when Skye’s team gets a second wind. It takes less than thirty seconds for them to make up the ground they’ve lost and then pull his team leader over the line.

Trip groans as Skye cheers and hugs her campers. She’s not gloating, which is good, his cabin probably feels bad enough as it is.

They’ll cheer up after dinner, once they’ve had a few s’mores.

They’re shaking hands with the red team like good sportsmen, when Skye leans over.

“Remember, beer’s on you tonight,” she whispers in his ear.

“But Mack’s team lost; we got second,” he protests.

Skye pulls back, “But Mack wasn’t in on this bet. Beer’s on you,” she points at Trip for emphasis.

Hopefully he gets some good tips tomorrow. Skye can hold her liquor.


	27. Bumping Into Each Other AU (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

Under most circumstances, Trip’s reaction time is better than this. But he’s been up for days, literally days. And that was before the firefight, the car chase, the extraction, and the three-hour flight to the Hub where he Dan decided it was more important to recap the baby names he and his wife have been debating than to actually sleep.

If that man hadn’t saved his ass more time than Trip could count, he’d probably have hated Dan by the time their plane landed.

So when he crashes into someone on his way to their debrief, Trip doesn’t even realize what’s happening until they’re on the floor and she’s leaning over him to undo his tac gear and pull his shirt off.

The fact that she’s removing his clothes actually registers before the faint burning sensation.

“Oh dear, I’m so, so sorry,” the woman apologizes in an English accent. Trip knows guys who could place the exact town she’s from using only the sentence she’d just uttered, but he’s not one of them.

“You know, usually women at least let me buy them dinner before they start taking my clothes off,” he smiles up at her. She’s pretty, in a delicate porcelain kind of way.

She doesn’t even blush, and Trip thinks he likes it better that way.

“Yes, well I’d imagine those women haven’t just spilled hazardous chemicals on you,” she replies calmly as she works his t-shirt over his head.

That would explain the burning sensation.

“It’s not gonna do permanent damage, is it?” he asks.

She shakes her head and stands up before helping him to his feet, “No, I designed it to be painful, not damaging.”

She designed it. That means she’s a scientist, which the white lab coat would have given away if she hadn’t been pretty much on top of him before he even noticed her presence.

She drags him towards the lab doors she just walked through, scanning her ID to get the doors to open. She’s pretty strong for someone so tiny.

“I’ll let hand know you’ll be a bit late,” Dan calls after him with a smirk.

The scientist pulls him towards a shower head in a corner of the lab. Once he’s under it, she steps back and pulls a level. The shower turns on and dumps cold water on him.

He’s certainly awake now.

“You know,” he tries again, “most women let me buy them dinner before stuff like this.”

She laughs. It’s a really nice laugh, “Well I guess I’ll just have to let you buy me dinner to make up for it. Maybe once you’d gotten a little more sleep, though. I’d hate to have another accident like this.”


	28. Costars AU (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

He’s nervous. He should definitely not be nervous. He’s kissed plenty of other women before, both onscreen and off.

But Jemma Simmons makes him nervous. She’s so friendly and kind with everyone that he has no idea where they stand.

But sometimes he swears she’s into him. And he’s totally into her.

But then again, he’s pretty sure he’s made that overtly clear and she’s still got him confused. Maybe he’s reading too much into things.

So no, he shouldn’t be nervous about the kiss scene they’re filming this morning. But the truth is, he’d like to it be about more than the movie. He should say something, get to the bottom of things before they have to kiss. But he’d also like to not put her in an uncomfortable position.

And if she’s not interested, kissing him after he’s just confessed his feelings is going to make her incredibly uncomfortable.

So instead he’s sitting in his trailer, venting his feelings to his dog, Barker (like Parker, only for dogs. In retrospect, he should not have let his best friend’s three-year-old name the dog).

Someone knocks on his door, and Trip knows he doesn’t have to leave for at least another 45 minutes.

It’s Jemma.

It’s Jemma and the second he opens the door she’s reaching for him and pulling him down into a kiss.

The kiss is quick, but powerful. He feels a little dazed when it’s over.

“I just thought we should clear that up,” Jemma mumbles, before turning around and darting back to her trailer.

He wonders if she’s smiling as wide as he is right now.


	29. Invisible Boyfriend (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on fandom's idea that Trip should have gained invisibility powers instead of being killed as a result of the terrigen bomb.

There are plenty of benefits to having an invisible boyfriend. They don’t come back from missions as injured as other agents, primarily because no one can see them to shoot at. They’re great at sneaking ice cream out of the communal fridge without getting caught (Skye blames Hunter, and Jemma doesn’t bother to correct her). Scientifically, they’re fascinating. And they’re incredibly satisfying, sexually (although that might not having anything to do with invisibility, Jemma isn’t really interested in doing the necessary experimentation to find out).

But there are plenty of downsides. Chief among them, in Jemma’s personal opinion, is Trip’s inability to completely control his visibility when he’s asleep.

It’s not a huge problem most nights, but sometimes Jemma has nightmares, vivid dreams of Trip turned to stone and then falling to ash. She never saw it with her own eyes, but Skye’s descriptions were detailed enough that Jemma can picture it perfectly.

Sometimes it’s easy to recover, because she wakes up in his arms. She doesn’t need to see him to know he’s still there. Other times, she lacks the feel of him, but as soon as she opens her eyes she can see him on the other side of the bed.

But there are also times when she wakes up and her first thought is that he’s gone. She can’t see him, can’t feel him. It only takes seconds to reach out and touch him, but the pure panic she feels in those seconds is enough to keep her from sleep for the rest of the night. She just lies there, arms wrapped tightly around him, as if she can hold on tight enough to keep him from slipping through his fingers.

He asks about it a couple of times, but she evades the question. He doesn’t pry. But he must figure it out at some point. He stops climbing into bed shirtless, usually opting for lightly colored shirts that provide extra visibility.

It’s reassuring, being able to see the rise and fall of his shirt, even when she can’t see the rest of his body. She sleeps easier.


	30. Cats and Dogs (Grant Ward/Leo Fitz)

"I told you we should have just gotten that German Shepherd puppy." 

"I’m sure he’ll warm up to Abbie," Fitz insists as he plops the first aid kit down on top of the kitchen table.

"After how many more scratches?" Ward bounces his daughter up and down on his knee in an attempt to calm her down.

It seems to be working, but of course the cat chooses that moment to launch itself off the top of the kitchen cupboards and land right in front of Abbie.

She screams. Ward quickly wraps one arm around the cat while simultaneously handing Abbie off to Fitz. Then he deposits the cat in the mudroom (he’d haven chosen something with a closing door, but that’s where the litter box is) and returns to his family.

Fitz is putting a Doc McStuffins band-aid (provided by Skye, with a note reading ‘for when you inevitably break your child) on Abbie’s arm.

"There we go, all better," he whispers to their daughter, whose grip on the sleeve of his cardigan looks to be iron tight.

"I’m telling you, that German Shepard wouldn’t have done this," Grant repeats his comments.

"Yes, but the German Shepard would also have needed long walks and frequent trips outside to relieve itself. It’s not like either of us can just come home in the middle of the day to let him take care of business," Fitz replies.

Still, Grant’s very attached to the mental image of Abbie riding a German Shepard like a horse. Maybe in a year or so, when things settle down a bit.


	31. Early Morning Wake Up (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

"Mm…your kid before five in the morning.”

She can feel him roll over next to her, and for a moment she thinks that he’s disoriented enough that it actually works.

"Not how it works, babe," he mumbles, before reaching out and tickling her under the covers.

She wishes she had thought of that tactic, but he’s only tickling behind his knee and that’s a hard position to reach.

It works, of course, now she’s wide awake. That doesn’t stop her from sighing loudly to make her annoyance clear as she gets out of bed.

One day, they’ll get a full night’s sleep. But between work and Emily, it’ll probably be a couple of years before they get there.

The crying stops the moment Skye picks her daughter up.

"Oh, now you’re just fucking with mommy aren’t you?" she coos at the baby. Trip’s told her it’s inappropriate language to use in front of a baby, but it’s not like she’s old enough to understand it (and it’s not like he has any room to lecture). "You’re lucky I like you."

It’s love, not like, but even if Emily could understand what she’s saying, Skye says love about a hundred times a day. That kid’s going to be sick of her love by the time she’s old enough for school.

Growing up, Skye had longed for a family, and while she eventually found a makeshift one of her own, the flesh and blood one she has too feels like a miracle.

If only miracles didn’t wake her up at three in the morning.


	32. Accident Waiting to Happen (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?" 

"That’s an antique secretary," Fitz sounds horrified by the suggestion.

She knows. He mentioned it at least eight times when they bought it at the flea market four years ago, and he still likes to show it off whenever new people come over. All of their friends at least fake their enthusiasm.

"It’s an accident waiting to happen," Skye tells him.

"And we still have the problem of my office," Fitz mentioned.

"Our child is not going anywhere near your office," Skye puts her hands on her hips. "I’d like her to live to see her next birthday."

Technically, he’d moved all of his projects that could potentially explode, burst into flames, leak poisonous chemicals or emit loud, baby-waking noises back to the lab when Skye got pregnant. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t had the occasional accident since (notable, the drone with the propeller’s that spun off and embedded themselves in the wall inches above Isla’s head).

"We could call Jemma," Fitz suggests.

It’s their go to option. With twin boys a year older than Isla, Jemma had already read all the books and lived all the disasters they found themselves faced with.

"Yeah, let’s call Jemma," Skye agrees. "She’ll know what to do."

And she’ll be able to talk Skye out of dumping every single one of Fitz’s experiments out the window. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that, but she’s sorely tempted.


	33. Punishment (Phil Coulson & the team)

"What do you think for their punishment? Grounding? No video games? No going out for a week?" 

May just rolls her eyes. Last week he was concerned that Skye wasn’t eating enough vegetables, so this doesn’t even surprise her.

"We’re adults," Simmons points out from her seat on the couch with the others.

"I defused a bomb yesterday, you can’t ground me," Fitz notes.

"Where would we even go, the only time we leave the base is for missions," Skye rolls her eyes in a way that makes it look like she’s really trying to emulate May.

"I’d like to see him try and ground us," Lance crosses his arms and leans back against the cushions.

Mack, on the other hand, just stands up and walks right up to Coulson.

"I’d like to see you try and punish me," he tells the much smaller man as he towers over him.

Coulson takes two steps back.

"Okay," he points at Mack and Fitz individually, "no video games for either of you. Simmons, you have to clean up the messes you make while cooking dinner. Skye, you’re not allowed to accompany Billy on grocery runs for a month. And Lance, you’ve got inventory."

"Not again," Lance crumples even further, so he’s now practically lying on his back.

Coulson and May exit the room, leaving their charges to complain freely.

"Should have just kept quiet," Bobbi comments.

"Yeah," Trip agrees with a smile that seems a little more mocking that usual.

Somehow they both managed to escape unscathed.


	34. Intuition (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"So, how should we break the news that she's going to have a new baby brother or sister?" 

"Brother," Skye corrects him.

"You don’t know that for sure," he tells her.

"Woman’s intuition, trust me."

"You said Isla was going to have my curls," Fitz reminds her.

"And one day, through the magic of the curling wand, she might," Skye jokes.

"But really, she’s going to start questioning your growing belly at some point."

Skye shrugs, “We’ll tell her mommy’s really been enjoying the cookies.” Fitz glares are her. “I’m kidding. I picked up a book called I’m a Big Sister from the library. I’ll even let you read it to her.”


	35. Twins (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

"I knew it was a mistake to get the twins matching clothes."

Bobbi rolls her eyes at Lance’s comment, “Just because you can’t tell the difference between the two of them, doesn’t mean we’re as unobservant.”

Jemma points to the twin closest to the group of adults, “That’s Timmy. He’s the chatterbox. He’ll talk to anyone and anything, regardless of whether it’s even capable of listening.”

"Seriously," Bobbi agrees. "He talks to plants a lot. Reads to them, even."

"At least he pretends to," Jemma elaborates. "And that’s Nicky," she points to the other twin. "Won’t walk anywhere if he can run."

"And inevitably fall flat on his face," Bobbi shrugs. "He cries easily, mostly because of the falling on his face."

"Not as much of a hugger as Timmy."

"Unless he’s just fallen on his face, then he clings to you until he’s stopped crying."

"As you can tell," Jemma rolls her eyes, "Bobbi’s very concerned about the whole falling on his face thing. We’ve had to put up child-proof gates all over the house."

"If he falls nears the stairs, he could seriously injure himself," Bobbi begins an argument that sounds like it’s been had plenty of times before.

"Like you’d let him get close to the stairs," Jemma counters. "You watch him like a hawk."

"He’s two, Jemma."

"He’s exploring his world. Children are naturally curious," Jemma tries to blow off Bobbi’s concern.

"And naturally capable of getting hurt because of it."

The rest of the group block out the argument and focus on Timmy, who’s just pulled a copy of The Giving Tree off a shelf and is flipping through the pages while he talks to a fern.

"They weren’t lying," Trip eventually comments. "He really reads to the tree."

"Odd duck," Lance comments.

"Definitely takes after Simmons," Fitz says.


	36. Mother's Child (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

"What do you think for their punishment? Grounding? No video games? No going out for a week?"

"I’m pretty sure that if you told Tim he can’t go out for a week, he’d be relieved," Jemma points out.

"Well he certainly didn’t have a problem going out tonight," Bobbi sounds every bit as angry as when the twins first walked through the door.

"And because of that, Nick didn’t drive home while drunk."

"So you just want to let them off the hook?" Bobbi’s exasperated.

"Not at all," Jemma says. "We told them they weren’t allowed to go that party. All I mean was that sometimes you forget that Tim doesn’t take after you as much as Nick does."

"Hey, Tim takes after me plenty."

"He as your blonde hair, your height, your loyalty, and your stubborn streak," Jemma agrees, "but he’s not exactly the social butterfly you are."

"You’re just as stubborn as I am," Bobbi comments. "But what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Nick has to come straight home after soccer practice for the next two weeks, and Tim can only use the computer for schoolwork," Jemma suggests.

He’ll find a way around that, of course. He takes after her, that way.

But Jemma can’t imagine he voluntarily went to a high school party for any reason other than to keep an eye on his brother. So she’ll settle for inconveniencing him.

It’s not that she’s playing favorites, really. It’s just that she understands Tim a bit better than she does Nick. And she knows how isolating high school can be.

"Fine," Bobbi agrees. "But you have to deliver their sentences."

Jemma shrugs, that’s what usually happens. Bobbi’s might be able to resist torture, but those boys have always had her under their spell. Jemma’s a tougher nut to crack.


	37. Mistletoe (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

This wasn't the third bundle of mistletoe he had seen so far, and he had an annoying suspicion that there was much more strung up around the Playground.

It wasn’t that Fitz hated mistletoe really. It’s just that he couldn’t see the point of it when everyone but the core team had gone home for the holidays and almost everyone had driven to the nearest mall to do some last minute shopping.

Jemma had agreed to pick up the last gift on his list (noise canceling headphones for May for when she had to go on missions with Hunter), so Fitz had the base to himself for a while. For the most part.

He hadn’t seen Mack leave with everyone else, so Fitz assumed he was around here somewhere.

And if he’d taken a casual stroll by the garage (mistletoe location #1), the lab (#2) and the kitchen (#3), then it was just a coincidence that those were generally the locations he usually found the mechanic.

Annoyed with Mack’s mysterious absence (seriously the man was a giant, how could he be so hard to find), Fitz retreats to his room.

He’s staring at his shoes, still trying to figure out if there’s anywhere else where it makes sense for Mack to be (he wouldn’t do inventory this close to the holidays, but maybe he stepped out to run his own errands separate from the team) so he completely misses the large figure standing outside his door until he’s just feet away.

"Oh Mack," he exclaims, "I was looking for you."

He hadn’t planned on admitting that.

"Not for anything in particular," Fitz tries to play it casual, "just because I knew you and I were the only ones on the base… and I was wondering if you knew where Simmons put the rest of the wrapping paper."

That’s a lie, Fitz knows exactly where the wrapping paper is. And Mack’s going to figure that out as soon as Fitz opens the door to his room. It’s sitting on his bed.

Even Jemma could have lied better than that.

Mack doesn’t say anything though, he’s preoccupied with something hanging in Fitz’s doorway.

Fitz looks up.

He knew he hadn’t seen the last of the mistletoe.

Technically, they could both pretend it’s not there. He and Mack are the only two people on the base. There’s no one there to tease them about it. 

Fitz could open the door wide enough to squeeze through (but not wide enough to reveal the wrapping paper) and they could forget about this.

But Mack’s hand’s are on Fitz’s shoulders and he’s leaning down and Fitz is pretty sure he doesn’t have to ignore the mistletoe.

He’s also pretty sure he doesn’t want to ignore it.


	38. Practice (Skye)

Skye didn't have time to think, only react as she pushed Trip out of the way of the falling rock.

Immediately, the simulations clicks off and they’re standing in the Playground’s training room.

"Skye, you were supposed to use your abilities," Jemma’s voice sounds calmly over the loudspeaker.

"Yeah, we can’t get any data if you don’t use them," Fitz adds, sounding more annoyed.

Oops.

"Sorry," Skye shrugs. "Still getting used to the whole earthquake thing."

"It’s fine," Jemma insists. "We understand." Skye can picture Fitz trying to disagree from the control room. "Care to go again."

Skye rolls her eyes, but consents. She knows she needs to learn control, she really does. But she’d rather just go back to being normal.

Too bad that’s not really possible.


	39. Drunk Enough to Dance (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

Jemma leans back against the wall with a full glass of champagne in her hand. It’s only been an hour, but it’s her third glass.

She figures that three glasses of champagne should be enough to convince herself that she can dance.

Right now, she feels no such thing.

Her eyes are drawn, not for the first time tonight, to the dance floor. To Trip.

Right now, he’s spinning May around the floor like a pro. Jemma even thinks May is smiling. It must be the alcohol.

Or maybe Trip just has that affect on everyone. He certainly does on her.

Two and a half glasses and Jemma thinks she’s finally feeling a buzz. Good, she was starting to worry that Ward had mistakenly purchased non-alcoholic champagne.

Then she’d never get drunk enough to dance.

She checks her phone to see how much longer she has until midnight (she figures the dancing will stop just before the countdown starts).

When she looks up, Trip is standing in front of her.

"Come on Jemma," he says, holding out a hand to her, "You look way too good tonight to be a wallflower.

She quickly throws back the rest of her drink before taking his hand. 

Hopefully three glasses will be enough that she won’t make a complete fool of herself.


	40. Boobs (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"You look… boobs," Fitz says, and that’s what tips her off that maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink.

Although, it’s not like she hadn’t noticed other people staring. At least he was upfront about it.

"Yes, those are indeed boobs," she tells him with a giggle.

Okay, maybe he’s not the only one who had one too many.

But to be fair, they’d had to work on Christmas so she’d had to party enough for two nights.

Which is how the heel of her shoe broke, sending her crashing into Fitz’s arms. Really, she’s lucky he was sober enough to catch her.

She’s a little unsteady of her feet, but Skye eventually managed to extricate herself from his grasp.

"Thanks for the save," she tells him.

He just looks at her, raises his hands to chest height and squeezes in.

The universal gesture for boobs.

Skye blinks at him. Maybe it was more of a miracle that he caught her.

Regardless, she’s going to remind him of this tomorrow. She can’t wait to see how red he blushes.


	41. New Years Wish (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

Being dateless on New Years wasn’t the worst thing. At least she got to hang out with Trip.

Although his running commentary on the post-ball drop make out sessions did end up a little voyeuristic. Voyeuristic and hilarious, though, as evidenced by the fact that she couldn’t see through the tears her laughter had brought on.

He stops talking long enough for her to pull herself together.

When she finally wipes the tears from her eyes (courtesy of the pack of tissues Trip just happened to be carrying in his pocket), she notices a piece of confetti stuck to his beard.

"You’ve got something here," she points to the same spot on her own chin.

"A really fine and masculine beard?" he jokes.

"Confetti," she clarifies.

"Confetti in my fine and masculine beard, you mean," he wipes at the side of his mouth.

It doesn’t budge.

"Let me," Skye leans over and picks off the bright green paper.

"Do I get to make a wish?" he asks.

She hold out the finger with the confetti piece on it. He blows it away.

"Any success?" she asks.

"Give it a minute."

Skye can’t help but feel that he’s staring at her lips. His gaze is intense and it makes her feel warm all over.

He leans in closer and closer, then presses a soft kiss to her lips.

"A wish come true," he whispers.


	42. Tux (Leo Fitz/Skye)

She blames it on the tux, it has nothing to do with the guy inside of it.

(She’s lying to herself.)

"Wow, you don’t clean up half bad," she jokes.

"I know," he tells her, smug as ever.

"You ready for this?" she holds up a flash-drive.

He rolls his shoulders, “Not particularly.”

But then he grins at her, completely in his element, even though seeing him in a suit has her completely out of hers.

If she’d known he’d look so good like this, she’d have found an occasion for it sooner.


	43. Calendar (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

Really, Fitz is lucky he’s cute. Because Mack really doesn’t give a shit about the disadvantages of the Gregorian calendar.

"It’s actually kind of offensive, if you think about it. Only about a third of the world’s population is Christian, yet we’re basing our calendar system on the birth of Jesus."

Fitz has really nice curls. Mack wouldn’t mind getting the opportunity to run his fingers through them.

"And calling it Common Era and Before Common Era doesn’t really change anything. We all know what it’s based off of."

And that accent. Mack’s pretty sure Fitz could be reading the phone book and he’d still be turned on.

"And even if you do subscribe the existence of mythological figure Jesus Christ, which I don’t just so we’re clear, he wasn’t born in 1 AD. He was born earlier than that, although the exact date depends on which historian you ask."

The rumpled clothes are a bit weird, but at this point Mack finds them kind of endearing. It’s like Fitz is too busy to get everything folded and hung before the wrinkles set in (although Mack’s been in Fitz’s apartment, and he knows it’s really because he’s lazy, not busy).

"And then, of course, there are the mathematical issues. The irregular distribution of day between the twelve months— are you even listening to me?"

Mack snaps back to attention, drawing his gaze up to Fitz’s eyes (it had previously been on his lips).

"Yeah. Gregorian calendar. Unnecessarily based on the false birth year of a religious figure that only matters to a third of the world," Mack sums up Fitz’s arguments.

Luckily, he’s a good multi-tasker.


	44. Change (Antoine Triplett/Leo Fitz)

Fitz stares at Trip for a good five minutes until he figures out what’s different. Technically, Skye’s the one who points it out.

"What’s with the suit?" she asks. "Got a hot date?"

"Something like that," he replies, with the usual trace of humor in his voice. "Fitz and I are hobnobbing with a bunch of scientists at some MIT New Years Party."

"Yeah, Coulson thinks one of them might be in possession of the schematics for Donnie storm machine," Fitz says.

It’s not that Fitz is unobservant, it’s just clothes aren’t a huge deal for him. They keep him warm and they keep the general public from seeing parts of his body he’d like to keep hidden, but beyond that he doesn’t much care.

Plus, Trip looks good in everything.

"So you’re wearing a suit," Skye points to Trip, "but you’re wearing your normal clothes?" she points to Fitz.

"I’m waiting to change until we’re closer to landing," Fitz waves away her concern.

"That’s fifteen minutes from now," Fitz says.

He must have missed that announcement.

"Then I’m changing right now," Fitz drops the project he’s working on to go change.


	45. Champagne (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"I don’t have the champagne," Fitz announces as he hands Jemma his coat. 

Jemma hangs the coat in the closet and then turns back to him with her hands on her hips.

"And why is that?" she asks.

"Because there was only one bottle left at store than didn’t cost a ridiculous amount," he explains. "And some woman ripped it out of my hands."

"Ripped it out of your hands?" Jemma sounds amused.

"Yeah," and I tried to get it back, but then she screamed about how I was the thief and the guy behind the counter kicked me out."

The cold walk to Jemma’s new apartment hasn’t done anything to temper his anger.

The door behind him opens and a woman steps through.

"I got the champagne," she practically screams. "I had to fight a guy for it, but I got it."

Fitz turns out the sound of her voice.

"You," he accuses. It’s the woman who stole his champagne.

She doesn’t even look embarrassed, in fact she’s practically laughing.

"This is Fitz?" she asks Jemma.

Jemma nods and turns to Fitz, “Fitz, this is Skye. My new roommate.”

Well, that’s certainly one way to kick off a new year.


	46. Fireworks (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

"Babe," she barely hears his voice over the boom of the firework’s she’s setting off.

"Yeah?" she says over her shoulder, before looking up at the sky, currently lit up green.

"We have to be up in four hours for our flight home," Trip says calmy. "Come to bed."

He’s padded out to the back porch of their rental cottage in bare feet and no shirt. He must be freezing.

She laughs, “But it’s New Years. I’ll sleep on the plane.”

He rolls his eyes, but she’s pretty sure she can see him smiling, even in the dark.

"You can go back to bed, though," she tells him.

"Not really," he replies. "The fireworks are kind of loud. Besides, someone’s got to make sure you don’t burn anything down."

"Not likely," she tells him.

He walks up behind her and grabs a tube out of her hands. Expertly, he sets it up on the ground and lights it.

"And I gotta know," he says, "how the hell you found fireworks in the middle of nowhere. There were not in your bag when we got on the place."


	47. Confetti (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

There are at least three pieces of confetti stuck to the top of Mack’s head, a red, a yellow, and a sparkly silver.

It’s distracting.

Mack’s got his arm’s around Fitz’s waist, telling him “It’s New Years, Turbo. You’ve gotta dance,” but all Fitz can concentrate on in that damn confetti.

Mack’s just tipsy enough to think Fitz is staring into his eyes and not the top of his forehead (that’s where the yellow one is).

At one point, he reaches up to wipe it off, but that Mack starts kissing him,

That, at least, manages to distract him. But they do have to come up for air at some point, mostly because Skye stars wolf-whistling.

The confetti’s still there.

"You’ve got—" Fitz starts, but Mack cuts him off.

"a really hot date to this party? I know."

Fitz is too focused on that damn confetti to even take the compliment seriously.

He sighs loudly, and Mack looks down at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Something wrong?"

"Follow me," Fitz grabs Mack by the wrist and pulls him out the door and down the hall to the lab.

It would probably be quicker to just tell Mack he’s got confetti stuck to him, but now that he’s been fixating on it, Fitz feels like he needs to take care of it.

He makes quick work of pulling the stop stool out from under the lab tables and climbs up so he’s the same height as Mack. He reaches out and plucks the tiny scraps of paper off of his boyfriend.

"Confetti," he holds it up to explain.

Mack nods his thanks and then takes the opportunity to enjoy kissing Fitz at this new angle.


	48. Loyalty (Jemma Simmons/Bobbi Morse)

Jemma’s not sure how exactly Bobbi Morse ended up standing next to her as they watched the ball drop on Trip’s big screen TV. She’d actually gone out of her way to avoid the other woman all evening.

It’s been exactly two years and twelve days since Bobbi dumped Jemma’s brother, Lance. And it’s been maybe six months since he stopped moaning about it.

Still, Jemma’s loves her brother (as much of a pain in the ass as he is), and that means she wants nothing to do with Bobbi.

Except that’s a lie. She wants a lot to do with Bobbi. She’s wanted a lot to do with Bobbi ever since Lance brought her home to meet the family for the first time.

Having a crush on your brother’s girlfriend is kind of inconvenient.

But even now that Lance and Bobbi have broken up, and Lance is seeing someone new, Jemma shouldn’t want anything to do with Bobbi.

Right?

She should definitely not get butterflies in her stomach when Fitz accidentally bumps in Bobbi and pushes her against Jemma.

And she should definitely not feel warm all over when Bobbi smiles apologetically at her.

Furthermore, when Bobbi’s smile turns mischievous, Jemma’s brain shouldn’t completely short-circuit.

And when Bobbi spontaneously pulls Jemma even closer and gives her a deep New Years kiss, Jemma should feel repulsed, not light as air.

And she definitely shouldn’t kiss Bobbi back.

But she does.


	49. Jaw Dropping (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

Jemma doesn’t realize she’s staring until Bobbi starts giggling.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," the blonde says.

It takes Jemma a moment to pick her jaw up off the floor.

She’s seen Bobbi in jeans and a t-shirt, in her combat suit, in pajamas, and in a whole variety of other disguises ranging from serious to silly. But she’s never seen the other woman in a ball gown before.

She’d give it a solid second place (she has a weak spot for the matching raincoats they wore on a day off in Niagara falls, a photo of which she keeps in her bedroom).

"You should," she replies sincerely.

Bobbi beams and Jemma feels even better for causing it.

"You know, you don’t look too bad yourself," Bobbi says, in reference to Jemma’s own dress.

It’s not nearly as clingy or plunging as Bobbi’s, but Jemma’s not the one who’s supposed to attract attention. Which is just fine with her, since she’ll probably be too busy ogling Bobbi to deflect unwanted advances.


	50. Speak Now (Leo Fitz/Skye)

She’s happy, he tells himself. She wants this.

She’s happy, she wants this, she made this choice, she doesn’t want him.

So he watches silently as she walks down the aisle. Jemma squeezes his hand sympathetically. She was surprised he opted to come at all.

Skye doesn’t look sad, or scared. She doesn’t look like she’s thinking of him. She doesn’t look like she’s about to do something she regrets.

She does look beautiful.

But she doesn’t look happy or excited, or anything of the things that she should be when marrying the supposed love of her life.

And that’s the thought he can’t get out of his head. That’s what runs through his mind while the minister makes the traditional speech. Fitz barely hears a word.

Until the minister gets to “If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

That Fitz hears.

And against his better judgement, against his need for self-preservation, against the very strong urge to run, he finds himself standing up to speak.


	51. The Last Time (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

It’s over (at least Skye’s responsibilities are). Jemma didn’t rip her dress, the flowers were fresh, the ring-bearer didn’t lose the rings, the vows have been exchanged, all the photos have been taken, and now it’s time to cut loose.

The first thing Skye wants is a drink.

And it seems Lance, the best main to her maid of honor, has decided to forgo glasses in favor of an entire bottle of wine.

Skye’s experience with the man is limited, but she’s under the impression he’s actually showing restraint by going for wine instead of whiskey.

Still, he probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by himself before they’ve even sat down for dinner. Good thing she’d rather help him with it than wait in line at the bar for her own drink.

He passes the bottle over to her as soon as she takes a seat next to him in the elaborate garden where the reception’s taking place.

"Long day?" he asks.

She takes a long swig from the bottle and passes it back. His taste (which is probably more Jemma’s taste) in wine isn’t half bad.

"Wouldn’t have been so long if you’d kept a closer eye on the ring-bearer," she remarks.

"Ward said he was taking care of that," Lance defends himself. "Said he’s good with kids."

"And you believed that?" Skye laughs.

"I was… distracted," he finally admits.

"By what? Something small and shiny?"

"By a gorgeous maid of honor," he says with a wink.

She pretends to gag.

"Come on, we’re the best man and maid of honor, it’s tradition," he tells her. "Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it."

She has, minimally. She’s been pretty busy reassuring Jemma that the day would go well, so she hasn’t had a ton of time to think about other things.

Still, the guy looks good in a suit. She’s not made of stone.

"Maybe if you hadn’t encouraged the flower girl to dump her basket of flowers on top of herself midway down the aisle—"

"I had nothing to do with that," he insists. "That was all May."

Skye folds her arms across her chest, “Yeah right.”

"Fine," Lance says, "don’t believe me. But save me a dance."

And after they polish off the bottle of wine, she saves him three, followed by a make out session against an unfortunately thorny rosebush.

She doesn’t even notice the holes in the back of her dress until the next morning.


	52. Vegas (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"You’re fucking with us, right?" is the first thing Lance asks.

Fitz just laughs nervously.

"No, we’re one-hundred percent serious," Skye holds up her left hand again, in case anyone missed the ring the first time.

No one had.

Jemma’s hands are clasped over her mouth in surprise and Coulson looks ready to faint. Even May looks a little stunned.

"So what’re you going to do about it?" Trip asks.

Skye shrugs, “Be married, I guess.”

Bobbi looks like she wants to say something, but she keeps her mouth shut. Fitz is thankful for it, he’s nervous enough about this whole accidentally married thing, he doesn’t want to hear any horror stories from her and Hunter’s marriage.

Jemma finally recovers enough to come to their rescue, “So do you want us to throw you a wedding reception?”


	53. Surprise Disagreement (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"No please, continue to insult my life’s work and tell me that love doesn’t exist. It’s fine, it’s not like I have feelings or anything."

"I never said that love doesn’t exist," Skye defends herself. "I said that if you’re really in love, why do you need some big party and a bunch of documents to legitimize it?"

"Why not celebrate your love?" Fitz argues. "Why wouldn’t you want to share that with your family friends?"

"Because I don’t feel the need to spend tens of thousands of dollars in an attempt to justify my feelings. They’re personal, between me and my significant other, I wouldn’t want to include anyone else."

"I don’t see why the two have to be mutually exclusive," Fitz shrugs. "I’ve been to plenty of city hall weddings followed by backyard barbecues."

"I should have known you’d be like this the moment you said you were a wedding planner," Skye shakes her head.

"Well then you should have mentioned your feeling about marriage last night," Fitz says as he leans over the side of the bed to grab his underwear.

"You’re cute, I was into it. I didn’t think I was signing up for some lifelong commitment on the first date."

"Trust me," Fitz says as she gets off the bed and searches the room for the rest of his clothes, "you’re not. This is never happening again."

But it does.


	54. Dance Class (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

"Sorry," Jemma mutters for the tenth time that night.

She’s not trying to step on Bobbi’s toes, and she usually considers herself quite graceful. There’s just something about the other woman that throws her off.

At least she didn’t spill her water bottle all over her like last class. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough to take ballroom dancing lessons on her own (she mentally curses Fitz for dropping out at the last minute) and therefore having to dance with the teacher, Jemma had spent the last five weeks making a complete fool of herself.

All because the instructor is hot.

"Jemma," Bobbi says, all smiles despite the fact that her toes must be in serious pain, "you’re over-thinking it. Stop staring at your feet and look at me."

That’s easy enough to do, Jemma could stare at Bobbi all night.

She struggles, but manages to make it through the next half an hour without causing the object of her affections any permanent damage.

She’s changing out of her heels and looking forward to slipping out the door and never looking back when Bobbi stops her.

"Are you free this weekend?" Bobbi asks.

Jemma overheard her talking some of the students about a free dancing night at some restaurant on Sunday. Jemma has no interest in that level of public embarrassment.

"No thank you," she declines. "I don’t think I’m ready for ballroom dancing night yet."

Bobbi laughs, “Then how about dinner Saturday?”


	55. Satan (Skye & Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night prompt meme

_(334): I changed his contact info to "NO" and a picture of satan_

“And this,” Skye holds her phone up to Jemma, “is my reminder to stop calling Ward when I’m drunk and insecure.”

“That is,” Jemma pauses to think of the correct word as she takes in a particularly graphic illustration of the devil standing on top of a pile of corpses, “probably going to be very effective.”

“I hope so,” Skye says with vigor. “Staying in and staying sober so I don’t sleep with shitty ex-boyfriends is really boring.”


	56. Roommate (Lance Hunter & Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night Prompt Meme

_(908): My roommate was tripping balls last night, he kept me up all fucking night_

_(212):Roommate? Please tell me you're not calling your cat your roommate_

"Oh, is Mack in town?" Jemma asks, even though Mack really isn’t the type to "trip balls."

"Nope," Lance tells her.

Jemma pauses for a minute, trying to figure out who he’s talking about. Then it hits her.

"Whiskers?" she asks. "You call Whiskers your roommate?"

Of course it’s Whiskers. She should never have suggested he get a pet after Bobbi dumped him. He’s gotten way too attached.


	57. Little Sister (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night prompt meme

_(646):I may not go down in history, but i will definitely go down on your little sister._

"La la la," Lance covers his ears and sings loudly because the last thing he wants to hear about is his ex screwing his little sister.

At first he’d just assumed it was some sort of revenge thing. He’d been really concerned about Jemma getting hurt.

Months later, he’d moved onto anger (in spades). How dare they do that to him? Didn’t anyone think about what coming home for Christmas to find the two of them snuggling on the couch would do to him?

(He cried)

He’d moved past that, eventually, but it was still really fucking weird.


	58. Trouser Snake (Lance Hunter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night prompt meme

_(760):genius idea. im gonna paint my penis green like the serpent of sex_

He doesn’t say anything to anyone when he joins them for breakfast, he just looks confused and embarrassed. Also really hungover.

Finally Mack takes pity on him and tells him, “You thought it would be fun to make it look like a snake.”


	59. Rent (Grant Ward/Melinda May)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night Prompt Meme

_(818):I've decided to take one for the team and bang the landlady for lower rent._

"So how’d it go?" Fitz asks when Ward returns and shuts the apartment door.

"Really well, actually. I’ll probably be sore in the morning," Ward replies.

"No, I meant is she going to lower our rent?" Fitz says slowly, like the sex has somehow depleted his roommate’s braincells.

"Absolutely not," Ward shrugs, "but she did say I could come over later for round two."


	60. Delayed Flight (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night prompt meme

_(478):His flight was delayed by two hours though. I just got cock-blocked by clouds_

"I almost got started without you," Skye’s says when he calls her from the airport.

"I hope you can hold out a little longer," he says as he hoists his suitcase off the conveyor belt and heads off in the direction of the exit.

"I waited two hours already, what’s another thirty minutes? Although, I am started to get cold, just lying around in my underwear."

The photo message that appears in his inbox seconds later has him running for the taxi line.


	61. Scare Tactics (Antoine Triplett/Skye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night Prompt Meme

_(937):was it mean of me to chase him screaming "DO YOU EVER WANT TO BE ABLE TO HAVE CHILDREN?!"?_

"That is," Trip gulps, "terrifying."

"Yeah, but it was enough that he finally took no for an answer," Skye says. "I haven’t seen him since."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," he tells her sincerely.

"What about my good side?" she leans in close.

"I would definitely like that," he says, as he signals to the bartender for more drinks.


	62. Bubble Wrap (Team & Skye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night prompt meme

_(345): Bring some clothes for Skye when you bail her out. She says all she is wearing is bubble wrap._

Upon hearing this, Jemma gets up and heads for Skye’s bunk.

Fitz calls after her, “Don’t forget a coat, it’s cold out. Maybe some aspirin, she’s probably got a big hangover.”

Lance, of course, was completely joking. But the way neither Fitz nor Simmons seems to bat an eye at it is a little worrying.


	63. Ladies (Skye & Jemma Simmons & Bobbi Morse & Raina)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night Prompt Meme

_(508):I JUST LIKE FLANNEL, NOT VAGINAS! OK?_

"Yeah right," Raina mutters as Jemma rolls her eyes.

"How many times have I caught you staring at my breasts at the gym?" Bobbi says.

"They’re nice breasts," Skye protests. "That doesn’t mean I want to fuck you."

"And all the times you’ve grinded on me when we go out dancing?" Raina adds.

She does have a point.

"I win," Jemma says. "Sometimes when it’s cold out, I find Skye cuddling up to me in the middle of the night. She says it’s because there aren’t enough blankets in the apartment, but I know better."

"Fine, you caught me," Skye says. "I am totally into ladies and could not lie about it to save my life, so don’t make me."


	64. Terrible (Lance & Trip & Fitz & Mack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night Meme

_and then she said I drew a line on her forehead with my cum and whispered "Simba"_

"Man, ever since Bobbi dumped you, you’ve gone home with the worst women," Trip says, shaking his head.

Mack looks disgusted, Fitz might actually be gagging.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t stick around after that," Lance promises his friends.

"It doesn’t," Mack says bluntly.

"You still disgust me," Fitz agrees.

"Next time, let one of us play wingman," Trip advises. "We’ve got much better taste in girls than you."

"Mack isn’t even into women," Lance says. He doesn’t have much room to argue about Trip or Fitz.

"Yeah, you’re that bad."


	65. Drunk (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text From Last Night prompt meme

_(087):HELP! I GOT DRUNK IN THE LIVING ROOM AND CANT GET UP UPSTAIRS_

"You’re an idiot," Jemma says, peering down at him from the second floor.

"Stairs are hard," he Lance whines.

"I’m surprised you made it off the couch."

"I am full of surprises," he says, before losing his balance out of nowhere and falling to his knees. "That hurt."

Jemms sighs deeply and walks down the stairs to help him up. She yanks him up the stairs and deposits him in his bed before returning to her own room.

She’s just gotten comfortable in front of her computer when she hears him call for her again.

"Jemma, I locked myself in the bathroom."

"Just tell me you’ve got your pants on."


	66. Signals (Antoine Triplett & Skye)

"I could kick his ass, if you want," Trip yells over the club music, as he cuts in between Skye and a particularly handsy dance partner and maneuvers them both through the crowd.

She shakes her head, “No, I refuse to get kicked out until I’ve danced more.”

"Fine, then I’ll be over there," gesturing towards the bar, where a cute woman is waiting, watching them (or him really). He smiles and nods at her. "Don’t forget the signal," he reminds Skye.

She rolls her eyes, “Like you’re gonna wait for the signal to come over here and interrupt. I told you, if I need to you handle it, I’ll signal. If not, I can probably kick his ass myself.”


	67. Scruff (Skye/Miles Lydon)

"If it weird that I took a photo of his scruff before I snuck out this morning?" Skye asks as she shuts the apartment door behind her.

"Assuming you’re referring to the scruff that grows on his face, then yes," Jemma replies. "Actually, it’s weird regardless of where the scruff is located."

Skye shrugs, “It was hot. Gold medal scruff.”


	68. Detective AU (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Can I—"

"No, you can’t bring any of the Dwarves with you to the crime scene. We’re not even supposed to be there, and they wouldn’t go unnoticed."

"You’re no fun."


	69. Idol (Peggy & Jemma)

"Can I go in there?" Jemma quietly asks May as they stand in the hospital hallway.

May is hesitant. She knows, of course, that Jemma has read all the files on Peggy Carter’s medical status. She knows what to expect, at least logically.

But May also knows how much Jemma idolizes Peggy Carter. Jemma’s lost a lot this past year, and Melinda is worried that seeing someone she admires so much in a state like will hurt her even more.

It’s hard enough for May to watch, and she can’t recite every single piece of public (and private) information on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founder. She knows enough to know what a loss it is to see Peggy Carter like this.

But she nods and lets Jemma going, knowing that, even if it hurts, Jemma can handle it.


	70. Summer Camp AU (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

"Really, the whole no bikinis rule is unfair," Jemma remarks as she takes in the sight of Bobbi Morse playing in the lake with her campers.

Not that she doesn’t look absolutely gorgeous in her blue and white striped one-piece.

"I’m pretty sure it’s in place to keep the pre-teen boys from being as creepy as you’re being right now," Skye laughs.


	71. Electricity (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

"Shit," Fitz curses when the lights go out. "It looks like the whole block is out."

"Just get some candles," Mack suggests.

"The only candles I had were vanilla scented ones Skye left here and I might have thrown them out."

"No problem," Mack says, coming up behind Fitz and wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist, "I think we can make to the bedroom in the dark."


	72. Little Secrets (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Simmorse Appreciation Week Day 3, AU Day.

“They know,” is the first thing out of Jemma’s mouth when Bobbi opens the door.

“Who knows?” Bobbi asks, not particularly concerned. This isn’t exactly the first time Jemma’s been convinced that someone has figured out their little secret.

“Callie Hannigan, Donnie Gill, and Seth Dormer. I have them for AP Bio, they’re in your honors Chem class, right?” Jemma asks.

Bobbi nods, “And why are you convinced that they know?”

“You remember how we were texting during your free period this morning? Well I had my students doing an experiment, and I overheard them talking.”

Bobbi grimaces. The casual conversations of high school students are never fun to hear. She generally avoids them at all costs.

“Apparently Callie’s noticed that I seem very happy with someone I occasionally text during class experiments,” Jemma explains rapidly, “and then Seth said he’d noticed that you do the same thing when your class does exams. Then Donnie mentioned that you and I seemed awfully cozy at the basketball game last week.”

“And then you played it cool and didn’t do anything weird, right?” Bobbi asks, knowing that the answer she wants is probably not the answer she’s going to get.

“I blushed a lot and kind of avoided checking their experiments,” Jemma mutters.

“Of course.”

“They’re very bright, and probably my best students. They don’t need to be checked on every time,” Jemma insists, although they both know that, under normal conditions, she certainly would have at least taken the opportunity to praise their work.

Bobbi wraps her arms around Jemma’s waist and pulls her close.

“It’s okay, babe,” she assures her girlfriend, as Jemma rests her head lightly against Bobbi. “They probably got distracted by their own lives and forgot all about it. Teenager’s have notoriously short attention spans.”

That calms Jemma down a little.

“I guess,” she sighs.

Bobbi smiles, “Now come upstairs and tell me how badly I’ve ruined our romantic dinner.”


	73. Allergic Reaction (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Simmorse Appreciation Week Day 4, Hurt/Comfort.

“You’re having an allergic reaction,” Jemma says, as Bobbi tries to scratch her skin off.

“To what?”

It comes out a little more angrily than Bobbi meant to direct at the biochemist.

“That’s the thing,” Jemma sounds hesitant, “The Amazon is home to 10% of the world’s biodiversity, and some of that includes a number of lifeforms that haven’t been discovered yet.”

“Not to mention aliens,” Fitz chimes in unhelpfully.

Jemma glares at him and he takes that as a sign to leave the lab, where Bobbi is currently lying on a cot, trying to decide whether the itch on her left arm or the bottom of her right foot is more pressing.

 

“Also, given the nature of the shrine we found, there is a possibility that whatever your reaction is extraterrestrial,” Jemma sighs.

Aliens make her nervous, Bobbi noticed a long time ago. When she’d asked Skye about it, she’d received a fairly terrifying story about an alien virus and a free-fall from the Bus’s cargo bay.

Bobbi hopes they’re not in for a repeat performance.

That sentiment must reflect of her face, because Jemma assures her, “It’s much more likely that it’s something native to this area. I’ve given you a shot that should take care of most of the itching.”

“Good,” Bobbi says, sitting up in her cot. “Then as soon as it kicks in, I can get back out there.”

Jemma firmly pushes Bobbi back down, “Unfortunately, it’s going to make you drowsy. At my recommendation, Coulson has decided you should stay here and rest while May joins the others.

Bobbi glares at Jemma, but she doesn’t really mean it. It might actually be nice to rest.

That’s the kind of thought that indicates the medication’s kicking in. She would never think that without the aid of drugs.

“Fine,” she agrees, but she’s going to need to get something out of this too. “But you have to stay here with me.”

“Of course,” Jemma says, pointing to the centrifuge set up on the worktable. “I’ll be right over there.”

“No, you have to stay here,” Bobbi pats the small space next to her on the cot.

Jemma looks at the centrifuge again, her first round of samples are done spinning, and she can’t start on another until they’ve finished being analyzed.

“Give me two minutes,” she tells Bobbi.

The blonde taps her wrist in the spot where a watch would go.

Soon enough, Jemma is lying on the cot next to Bobbi.

“Don’t scratch,” she swats Bobbi’s right hand away from her left elbow. “And I’m only staying until my samples are done.”

That doesn’t work too well. When May returns an hour later, with a few small scrapes that need disinfecting, she finds the two other women still curled up on the cot together.


	74. Exhausted (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Simmons Appreciation Week Day 6, Emotions Meme

“I think that’s enough for… ever,” Jemma collapses onto her bed.

“You’re the one who wanted to learn to fight,” Bobbi sits, a little too energetically, at the bottom of Jemma’s bed. “You said you didn’t want to, and I quote, be a liability in the field.”

“I take it back,” Jemma groans. “My arms feel like lead and my stomach hurts when I move. It’s not worth it.”

Bobbi leans back so she’s lying to next to Jemma, then pulls herself up the bed so their heads are level, “You also told me to ignore you when you tried to back out of it because you’re sore.”

Jemma does remember saying that, yesterday when she was young and naïve and her muscles weren’t screaming in pain.

“Honestly,” she tells Bobbi, “I don’t think I’m capable of another round of that. I’m completely exhausted and if every one of your torture sessions is going to make me feel like this, then I won’t be awake enough to do my actual job.”

Bobbi laughs. Normally she wouldn’t accept this kind of complaining from a student, but Jemma just so damn cute. It’s kind of hard to resist.

Bobbi rolls over and buries her face in Jemma’s hair, “If you’re going to sleep, you should really shower first. Otherwise you’ll wake up smelly and with even stiffer muscles.”

“Not possible,” Jemma says. “I don’t think I could stand even if I wanted to, much less walk to the showers.”

“I could carry you,” the blonde suggests. She did her own light workout before Jemma’s training session, but she could definitely put in a little more effort. “And we could shower together.”

Normally a suggestion like that would make the tiny scientist’s eyes light up as she runs to the showers to get started.

Instead she jut sighs, “I’m too tired to even be tempted.”

Bobbi starts to think that maybe these training sessions aren’t necessary. Jemma already works double duty as a scientist and chief medic. She can’t be expected to b good at everything. And besides, there are five specialists on the team to look after her.

Bobbi drapes an arm over Jemma and cuddles up close, “Fine, nap first. But this doesn’t mean I’m let you off the hook about training. We can reevaluate tomorrow.”

But Jemma doesn’t hear her, she’s already fallen asleep.


	75. A Place to Hide (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Simmorse Appreciation Week Day 7, Free Day

“How do you even find the time to meet all of these people?” Bobbi asks as she lets Jemma into her apartment for the third time this week.

The petite woman shrugs, “Lots of places. I’m friendly and easy on the eye, I don’t have much trouble attracting bedmates.”

Bobbi laughs as she closes the door behind her neighbor, both because of Jemma’s frank appraisal of her own attractiveness and her use of the word ‘bedmates.’

“I’m sure the accent doesn’t hurt, either,” Bobbi says.

“You have no idea.”

They spend the next hour the way they frequently do, catching up on each other’s lives as Jemma waits for the sound of her one night stand clearing out.

“You know, now that you’ve brought your own electric kettle,” Jemma gestures to her now empty cup of tea before standing up, “I’m going to be even more tempted to hide out over here.”

“I really don’t mind,” Bobbi assures her.

And she doesn’t. It’s nice to spend morning with the cute scientist. The only downside is that it’s hard to get someone to notice your romantic interest (seriously, she wouldn’t have bothered with the electric tea kettle if she didn’t want to impress Jemma) when they’re in the process of hiding out from their own paramours.

“My offer still stands,” Jemma says as she heads out the door. “If you need to hide from a date, or anyone else, my door is open.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bobbi says. “I’m not as polite as you are, I have no problem getting rid of unwanted guests.”

—

It takes two months, one week, and six days for Bobbi to take Jemma up on her offer.

“I thought you said you were great at getting rid of unwanted guests,” Jemma teases when she opens the door. She doesn’t even have to ask what the other woman is doing knocking on her door at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“Technically, I’m not hiding from a one-night stand,” Bobbi explains. “I’m hiding from my ex-husband.”

Jemma nearly drops her mug of tea in surprise.

“And you let your ex-husband stay the night?” Jemma asks once she’s set the tea down on a nearby table.

“On the couch,” the blonde clarifies. “He didn’t have anywhere else to stay, and he was supposed to leave early this morning, only now he says he wants to talk.”

“Ooh, that’s never good,” Jemma crinkles her nose in distaste.

“I know. We spent years being on and off and on again and these days I’m over it. Unfortunately, he doesn’t quite feel the same way.”

“So just tell him you’re not interested,” Jemma suggests. “You’re the one who said you have no problem doing that.”

“Lance is a bit,” Bobbi hesitates, remembering the time he spent an entire night crying outside her apartment door. “fragile. I’d rather not deal with the inevitable blow up.”

Jemma pauses for a moment, like she’s thinking hard about something, “Then tell him you’re dating someone else. Then you can just avoid the whole getting back to conversation altogether.”

“Like who? The guy down the hall who has all those dogs?”

“Me,” Jemma smiles shyly.

“You’d do that for me, pretend to be my girlfriend?” It might work, but honestly, Bobbi doesn’t want to pretend to date Jemma. She wants to do it for real.

“No, I meant I’d actually date you, not fake date you,” Jemma’s voice is quiet when she admits, “I haven’t actually had anyone spend in the night in six weeks.”

“But you’ve been coming over like clockwork,” Bobbi says.

“To see you.”

Bobbi grins from ear to ear, “So let’s go get rid of Lance and then I’ll take you out for breakfast. I love breakfast dates.”


	76. Back of a Library (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"This is his attempt at flirting," the petite English woman says, before gathering her things and heading for the stairs.

The cute Scottish guy, who Skye’s seen hanging around the library during her shifts all semester, blushes.

"That’s not true," he says, once his friend is out of sight. "I need all these books."

The books in question are strewn all over the table. Skye picks one up and glances at the title, “Teotihuacan.” She can also make out a book on silent films, a pamphlet on oral health, and a collection of Shakespeareans sonnets.

She’s pretty sure she reshelved all of them at some point in the last couple of days.

"I wasn’t sure which ones were yours and which ones were just your work," he explains weakly.

"They’re all for work," Skye tells him. "My job is literally just putting books away."

"Oh," he sounds disappointed. It’s actually adorable.

"I do like to the check out our graphic novels section though," Skye suggests.

"Can you show me those?" his eyes light up.

"Sure."


	77. Lying in the Grass (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Fitz scowls as Skye places the flower crown on his head.

“Those are weeds, you know,” he tells her.

She shrugs and leans back onto the grass, “They’re pretty. You’re pretty.”

“I am not pretty,” he insists. “I am handsome, ruggedly so due to my two days’ worth of stubble.”

Skye has nothing to say in regards to his ruggedness.

“You looks like a tree nymph,” she eventually says. “If tree nymphs wore plaid.”

He must find this an acceptable compliment, because he doesn’t protest. They both just lie together in companionable silence, looking at the clouds.

Fitz is just about to doze off when Skye says, “Wait, are dude tree nymphs even a thing?”


	78. Broken Glass (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Shit,” Fitz curses when he feels something bend under his feet. He vaguely remembers Skye putting her glasses down on the coffee able when she got here.

Skye is going to be pissed. And that means Jemma’s going to be pissed, she was so excited about the prospect of a female friend (“You should be excited Fitz, I won’t have to force you to accompany me to the mall anymore) and now he’ll have managed to scare her off in two hours.

Maybe he can fix them.

Fitz lifts his foot to get a better look at the small disaster he’s created. Not only is the left arm of the glasses completely disconnected from the frames, but the left lense is cracked. There’s no way he can fix that, not even if he had access to his lab equipment.

He could hide them, pretend not to know what happened. Skye would be annoyed at having lost them, but at least she wouldn’t blame him, and Jemma by association.

Yeah, he’s not sure how he would explain that sudden disappearance of Skye’s glasses in the five minutes it took Jemma to show her something on her laptop.

He’s holding them in his hands, trying to decide exactly what to do, when the girls come back into living room.

“Fitz, what did you do?” Jemma whisper-yells.

“Are those my glasses?” Skye asks.

Jemma actually sounds like the more concerned of the two.

“I might have… erm… crushed them with my feet,” Fitz explains. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“It’s fine,” Skye says, walking over to take the glasses from him. She then throws them in the kitchen garbage.

That certainly wasn’t the reaction Fitz had been expecting.

“I’ll pay for a new pair,” he promises her.

She shrugs, “They cost five bucks, I’ll live.”

“Oh,” Jemma says in surprise.

“Yeah, I don’t actually need them. I think they’re cute, and for some reason the creeps in my Software Engineering class take me more seriously when I wear them,” Skye explains. “Although I’ve still got the highest average, even when I don’t wear them.”

Fitz breathes a sigh of relief.


	79. Under the Bed (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

“Bunkbeds?” Mack lifts his nose in disgust as he takes in the room. “Seriously?”

Fitz pokes his head around the larger man’s body to get a look for himself, “Looks like it’s the only way to fit two people in the room.”

Yeah, he’d wanted something a little less… threadbare, but beggars can’t be choosers. And with two days off in rural Minnesota at the height of hunting season, they were definitely beggars.

But at least the cabin seemed functional. There was a fireplace, and the kitchen looked cleaned, and someone had even hug bright orange safety vests by the front door (not that Fitz would ever in a million years attempt hunting, but if everyone else out there was doing it, they were better off wearing the vests if they went outside).

And the best part? They were alone.

“Two kids, maybe, but not two adults. Not when one of them is me.”

Fitz takes that as a challenge. And when he takes on a challenge, he does it thoroughly.

Which is how they end up curled up together on the bottom bunk, with Fitz half lying on top of Mack (he doesn’t mind, the smaller man doesn’t really weigh much). Fitz is pressed up against the wall and Mack knows there’s no way that’s comfortable, but every time he brings it up Fitz just assures him he’s fine.

They both wake up the next morning with stiff necks and decide to move all their blankets onto the floor in front of the fireplace that night. It’s a much better solution (although Fitz thinks the whole ‘sex on a bearskin rug’ thing is a bit much).


	80. Lost Pet (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“Is that your cat?” a voice asks from behind Jemma, making her jump.

She doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s Bobbi Morse, the gorgeous woman in the apartment one floor above hers. But she does anyway, because no one needs to know she’s reached the point where she can recognize the voice of a woman she’s only spoken to a handful of times.

“Yes, that’s my Darwin,” Jemma practically yawns. It’s been a long day of work, and she’d planned on spending the evening curled up in her bed with a cup of tea and a book, not chasing down her escaped cat. “Quite the climber, isn’t he?”

Bobbi chuckles, then asks, “How long as he been up there?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Jemma confesses. He’d been missing when she got home from work an hour ago, but she’d been gone for more than ten hours before that. “I found him twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been trying to coax him down to no avail. Should I call the fire department? Or is firefighters rescuing kittens from trees a myth?”

She hopes Bobbi doesn’t that’s a weird idea.

“I could do it,” Bobbi offers.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” Jemma protests, but Bobbi’s already scaling the tree.

Despite the lack of branches near the ground, Bobbi climbs up quickly and gracefully. Jemma’s just glad the other woman in casually dressed in leggings and sneakers, and not some of the fancier things she’s seen her wear.

When Bobbi reaches the branch Darwin is sitting on (Jemma thinks he might have actually decided to take a nap up there), Jemma starts worrying about Bobbi’s safety again. Darwin can be a bit testy around new people. Or any people, really. The only one of Jemma’s friends he seems to like is Fitz.

Darwin hisses at Bobbi (no, not asleep then), but allows her to gather him up in her left arms. Bobbi then makes her way down the tree, just as effortlessly as she went up, despite the cat she has cradled in one arm.

Darwin starts squirming the moment Bobbi deposits him in Jemma’s arms. She hold on tightly; she doesn’t want to lose him again.

“I should really get him back to my apartment,” Jemma says, when what she really wants to say is ‘you’re a goddess, please come up to my apartment so I can worship you.’

Fortunately, she manages to hold that sentiment in.

“Why don’t I walk you back up there,” Bobbi offers, shocking Jemma, “in case Darwin gets loose again. Two against one is better odds.”

Jemma nods her head and leads Bobbi back into the building, vowing to work up the courage to invite her in for tea before they get to her door.


	81. Stuck in a Tree (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“Shockingly, I don’t do well with heights,” she forces herself to laugh as she tells him.

If she can laugh about it, then it’s not a big deal. If she can laugh about it, then she can ignore the way her stomach rolls and her head spins and she can feel herself falling through the sky. And then maybe she can find a way to force her body to move.

No such luck.

She knows, logically, that the chances of her dying after a fall from this height are slim, she’d have to strike the ground at the most unfortunate of angles. But when it comes to heights, her body’s pretty much given up on logic.

She should have never challenged herself to climb up here in the first place, even if she had the noblest of intentions.

“I’m coming up,” Trip calls up to her.

She wants to yell back that it’s not necessary; she’ll make her own way down in a few minutes. But she can’t guarantee that.

Even in her panicked state, it doesn’t feel like it takes long for him to swing himself up onto the branch next to hers. He shakes the tree as he does so, and she closes her eyes and holds onto the trunk for dear life.

When she opens them again, he’s looking at her calmly, sitting as still as possible.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“I want to get down,” she replies.

He smiles his usual comforting smile, all confidence and white teeth, “Understandable. Now how do you propose we do that?”

Her first through is brining in some sort of crane to pick her up and return her to the ground, but that would take time, and draw unnecessary attention.

“I’m going to have to climb down, aren’t I?” she asks. She desperately wants the answer to be no.

“Well, I could tie you to my back and maneuver us both down, but I’m guessing that would be the less safe option.”

She manages a real (but small, very small) laugh at the image of that.

“You’d be correct,” she tells him.

They sit in comfortable silence (at least the silence part is comfortable, the thoughts of plummeting to her death are decidedly less so).

“You know it’s totally reasonable to be afraid of things,” he eventually offers. “If I’d fallen out of a plane, I’d be scared of heights too.”

She didn’t fall out of a plane, though. She jumped. She inflicted this on herself (the first time at least, she has no problem blaming Ward for her second fall), which means it’s on her to get over it. She’s managed in the field so far, but she’s only had to deal with heights in life or death situations. Then it’s an easy decision to jump.

“I thought Specialists weren’t afraid of anything,” she turns the conversation towards Trip, if only to distract from the thoughts swirling in her head.

“Oh I’m afraid of things,” he says with a smile, “I’ve just learned to work through it.”

Working through it sounds awful, even if that was why she came up here in the first place.

“Things like what?” she asks.

He pauses for a minute, and she thinks she’s caught him in a lie. At the very least, his fears are going to be abstract concepts, like being unable to protect the people he cares about.

“Crocodiles,” he eventually says. “And alligators because they look like crocodiles. Peter Pan messed me up as a kid.”

She smiles at the Peter Pan reference, and because she can easily the difference between crocodiles and alligators.

Still, she wasn’t expecting anything so… tangible.

“And do you encounter those a lot?” she prompts him further.

“Luckily, no,” he says. “I primarily work in Europe and North and South America. The south has alligators, but I don’t end up there a lot. Same for Central America and crocs. I did have a memorable experience at a zoo in Berlin, though.”

“And how did you handle that?” she asks. She’s desperate, she’ll take any advice.

“Dan, my old partner, talked me through it,” he admits. “While we were being shot at, I might add.”

“That sounds worse that being stuck up a tree,” she says.

He shrugs, “It sucked, I survived with minimal injuries. It happens.”

Jemma take a deep breath and pushes herself into a kneeling position. She can’t stay up here forever, and she knows it. It’s better to get this over with.

“So how do I get down?” she asks.

He leans over, examining the branches underneath them, “Slowly.”

With his calm voice guiding her, she thinks she can manage this.


	82. Under the Bed (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“Mummy,” a small voice jolts Jemma from her sleep, “I heard a noise. I think there’s something under my bed.”

It’s Lucas, who’s always been the more timid of her twin boys. They’re barely four, but Liam’s already made the switch from calling her ‘mummy’ to just plain ‘mum.’

Her tired body protests, but Jemma pulls herself out of bed. “Let’s go take a look,” she tells him.

She holds Lucas’s hand as they walk down the hall, and flinches from the brightness as she turns on his bedroom light. Thankfully, there’s enough space in the house for each boy to have his own room. Trying to do this without waking Liam up would have been impossible.

“I promise you there’s nothing under your bed,” she tells him as she gets down on her hands and knees and flips up the comforter that is now covering the foot or so of space beneath his boxspring.

Lucas pulls on her shirt as he backs up to the doorway in fright, but there’s nothing under his bed except a plastic whiffle ball and bat set, and the small red soccer ball Uncle Lance got him for Christmas last month, neither of which will come out until spring.

Jemma’s still on her hands and knees when another voice enters the conversation, “I got this, Jem. You can go back to bed.”

She leans back onto her knees and turns her head to smile up at her husband, Trip, who’s standing in the doorway with an arm wrapped around the son’s shoulders. He grins back, showing none of the exhaustions Jemma’s currently feeling, and holds up a flashlight.

“If you’re sure,” she says, getting to her feet and backing up so he and Lucas can approach the bed.

She doesn’t leave the room, though. It might be three AM, and she might be completely exhausted, but she knows her husband well enough to know whatever happens next is going to be heartwarming adorable. She can’t miss it, even for sleep.

“Okay, Mummy already did a first sweep, but I got us a flashlight so we can be more thorough,” he tells their son as he kneels down where Jemma was. Lucas follows suit right next to him.

Jemma smiles silently at Trip’s use of the word ‘Mummy.” When the first had the boys, he hold her the British word sounded awkward and forced coming out of his mouth, but clearly he’s adjusted to it.

“You see anything?” Trip asks.

“Nope,” Lucas replies, shedding his shaky tone from earlier.

“Okay,” Trip says as they both get to their feet, “you get in bed while I grab Gabe Junior.”

Lucas kicks the covers down to the foot of the bed as he lies down. Jemma watches s her husband grabs a stuffed elephant, a gift to from his mother, off Lucas’s bookshelf. Liam has a tiger named Jonesy.

“Alright, remember what I told you about Gabe Junior,” Trip hands his son the soft animal and starts pulling the blankets up to Lucas’s chin, one at a time. “He keeps a sharp eye out for monsters under the bed and in the closet, and if he sees them he—“

“punches them with his trunk,” Lucas finishes for him.

Jemma has to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter at that comment. She doesn’t think either on of them has noticed her lingering.

“Exactly,” Trip leans downs to kiss his son on the forehead. “Sleep tight, Buck-o,” he uses his personal nickname for Lucas (Liam’s is Buddy).

Jemma steps into the hallway and back towards her own bedroom as Trip turns out the light. The darkness is disorienting, so it only takes a second for her husband to catch up to her.

“Gabe Junior punches monsters with his trunk?” she asks when he grabs her hand.

“Hey, you’re the one who told him that elephants use their trunks like extra hands,” he whispers back. “I can’t control what he does with that information.”


	83. Fascinating (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Invisible!Trip AU

“You know, I always thought superpowers would be a lot more fun than this,” Trip comments, seated in the lab for his third round of tests in less than 24 hours.

Jemma runs her fingers up his arm, trying to locate veins she can’t see. There have been a lot of misses today, and he can tell she feels bad about them.

“It’s better than being dead, I’d imagine,” she tries to joke, but despite her clear joy over him being alive, it falls flat.

It had taken him more than half a day to crawl out of the rubble of the underground city, then another few hours to get his comm working again. He also might have taken some time to panic over his inability to see his arms (or any other part of his body, he learned after ducking into a public restroom).

And they’d spent all that time believing he was dead. Jemma’s eyes were still bloodshot when they’d come to rescue him.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her.

“For not being dead?” Jemma smiles slightly.

“For scaring you,” he clarifies.

He wants to grab her hand, reassure her that even if she can only see the clothes he’s wearing, he’s still there. But she’s holding a sharp needle centimeters from his skin, and his arm’s already sore enough as it is.

“That was beyond your control,” her hands pause in their search and she turns to look at what she probably estimates to be his eyes (it’s more like his forehead, but earlier Lance had an entire conversation directed at his clavicle, so at least she’s close). “You’re in no way responsible for that.”

Still it’s hard for him to shake that small sliver of guilt in his gut. Intentional or not, they’d been hurt. They’d started to mourn him, and if he knew them well (he did), they’d blamed themselves for his death. They’d dealt with enough horrors over the past year, he doesn’t like knowing that he played a part in another one.

There’s nothing he can do to take that back, though. So he changes the subject.

“Any luck with the tests?” he asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jemma responds brightly. “We’ve pinpointed the chemical in your system responsible for the changes in your visibility. It’s quite fascinating, really.”

He can tell that she wants to continue to explain the science behind, probably using words he doesn’t understand in addition to her usual enthusiasm. He nods to encourage her to do so, then remembers that she can’t see what he’s doing.

“I’ve always known I was fascinating,” he teases, hoping to lighten the mood further.

“You have no idea.”


	84. Reading (Skye, Jemma Simmons & Leo Fitz)

The hardest part of this, could not be heard or seen.

"Romance novels, really?" Jemma comments from the kitchen doorway.

Skye slams the book shut.

"I promise I found it on the table. I was just… curious," she explains.

"About?"

"About whether the sex scenes were any good or not. This whole living in the shadows thing has kind of put me in the middle of a dry spell," Skye admits.

"Then you should ask Fitz," Jemma tells her.

Skye chokes on her breath, “What?”

"About the book," Jemma clarifies. "I think it’s his, I’ve seen it around the lab."


	85. Valentines (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

"Just don’t write a song and play it in front of everyone again… it’s embarrassing."

"I thought you liked the song," Trip says, immediately scrapping his plans for a follow up.

Not that he’s too hurt over it, Jemma’s name is surprisingly hard to find rhymes for and he was having trouble topping last year’s ‘Jemma Simmons, most beautiful of all the womens.’

Jemma sighs and turns to him, “I loved the song,” she says, and he’s pretty sure she’s not just placating him, “but the rest of the bar wasn’t really interested in the deviation from karaoke night.”

She has a point there, he’s actually surprised the manager hadn’t pulled him off the stage midway through.

"Well, you’ve already told me that flower shop flowers can’t hold a candle to the specimen you’ve found in the wild, and I know the candy stash you keep in your bunk is already overflowing, so you’re going to have to give me a clue about how you want to celebrate," he tells her, racking his brains for more ideas.

He almost says jewelry, but then he remembers that she accidentally melted the bracelet he got her for her birthday. He’s not going to waste his money on something she’ll destroy in a lab accident next week.

"I don’t know, maybe dinner, a movie, anything that gives me a night off, really. I’m not picky, as long as Fitz isn’t calling me every three minutes asking for my input," she turns back to her microscope.

Yeah, he thinks she could definitely use a night off.

"How about dancing?" he suggests.

Her immediate reaction is one of horror; it’s almost comical. But then she pulls back from the microscope and takes a long look around the lab.

"As long as we don’t end up with Skye trailing after us," she agrees. "I don’t want any photographic or video evidence of my lack of coordination."

Honestly, he’d been expecting a firm no. In fact, he’d mostly been joking when he suggested dancing. But if she’s willing to go along with it, he’s going to take her up on it.

And he’ll even choose somewhere that might give them the opportunity for a slow dance.


	86. Carnations (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Who did you get all these roses for?"

"Myself," she tells him bluntly.

"Oh," is all he can say in reply.

"It’s the middle of February, we live underground, and when we do get to see sunlight, it’s hidden behind clouds. I deserve flowers," she drops one bouquet onto her nightstand, but there’s still another seven sitting in the middle of her floor.

"Isn’t that a bit excessive, though?" he asks.

"It’s the day after Valentines Day and the guy had too many carnations. I got a good deal. You can take one if you want," she offers.

And he does. He puts it in his room, next to the bouquet of yellow roses he’d planned on giving her.


	87. Thawing (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Remind me again why you couldn’t make this?" Fitz asks as he pressed the mug of hot chocolate into Skye’s cold hands. Then he lifts up a corner of the blanket and squeezes in next to her on the couch.

"Because I’m still thawing out from four hours stuck hiding out in the crow’s nest of a replica pirate ship," Skye explains. At least her teeth have stopped chattering. "You haven’t left the lab all day."

"I will have you know that lab is temperature controlled to make quite the chilly environment," he protests, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table in front of him.

"If you weren’t surrounded by snow, then I don’t care," she says, taking a sip of her drink. It burns her tongue a little, but it warms her up enough that she doesn’t hesitate to take a second sip.

"I had to go back to my room and get a jumper this morning," Fitz teases.

"You know I have remote access to the thermostat for the entire base, right?" Skye asks. "Keep talking and tomorrow you’ll find that it really is cold."

She swats him lightly on the arm before curling up against him, careful not to spill her hot chocolate in the process.


	88. Blind (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

When she told Skye that his voice sounded like sex, she’d mostly been trying to get a rise out of the other woman. It had been pretty successful.

But now, sitting across from Trip over coffee, she was finding her comment more and more accurate. At least if she’d ordered hot chocolate, she’d be able to blame it on the phenylethylamine.

Aside from the sound of his voice, the conversation is really good, and her explanations of her research haven’t caused him to start snoring.

So when they end up back at her place, only to find that both Skye and Fitz have cleared out for the night, she invites him in. And as she guides him down the hall to her bedroom she’s remembering her promise to Skye to describe what his abs feel like in detail.


	89. Critical (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> paramedic AU

"Your stitches are uneven," Jemma snaps, immediately regretting it. Her face reddens with embarrassment.

Not only was it a rude thing to say, it was a lie. His stitches are tiny and even, and most likely going to heal without a scar. She’s just annoyed that Skye insisted the paramedic take a look at her leg now, rather than drive her to the hospital to get it looked at there.

And okay, the paramedic is really cute and having him in such close proximity, with his hands on her thigh, has her a bit on edge.

But mostly it’s annoyance with Skye. Definitely.

Still, she’s relieved when he laughs her comment off and says, “You try stitching up a patient who won’t sit still.”

Suddenly, Jemma’s aware of exactly how much she’s squirming, trying to get a good look at the side of her thigh, where the snapped off bar of a bike rack decided to lodge itself when she fell.

"I suppose you’re right," she sighs. "Very few of my patients move around."

"And what do you do for a living?" he stops what he’s doing to look up at her as he asks.

Jemma smiles brightly as she tells him, “I work for the coroner’s office.”

His eyes widen a bit in surprise, but he recovers nicely, “So all your patients are dead? That’s tight.”


	90. Lab Partners (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lab partners AU

"So who do you think Mr. Whitehall hates more, me or you?" Lance approaches Jemma from behind in the hallway, reaching out an arm to wrap it around her shoulder.

"Me," Jemma says bluntly, sidestepping his arm. "For someone who hates being corrected, you’d think he’d spend more time checking his genetics lessons for accuracy."

"How many times, Jem?" Lance shoots Jemma a pained look. 

She shrugs, “Enough that he assigned my big brother as my lab partner.”

"Hey," Lance glares at her in offense. "You could go much worse than me."

"Lance," she looks at him with pity. "This is your second time taking biology. I deserve better."

"I told you, I was distracted," he stammers, trying to come up with an excuse.

Jemma just rolls her eyes, “Sure.”


	91. Trust (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"You’re the only one I trust to do this." 

He startles a bit at her words, and bites back the urge to ask her why not May? Why not Coulson?

She elaborates anyway, because maybe if she admits it to someone else, it won’t feel like this huge weight on her shoulders.

"Coulson is… preoccupied," Skye tells him. "He’s dealing with a thousand different things in a hundred different cities, and we can’t trust that any of that won’t interfere with our plans. And May…"

"I think she’s doing her best," Fitz offers.

"Yeah," she agrees. "But between her ex-husband hanging around and whatever’s going on with Bobbi and Mack, plus her watching over Jemma…"

"I know," he tells her. Neither one of them doubts May’s good intentions, but she’s holding these team together by sheer force of will, and what they’re about to do could tear that apart.

Quietly, they gather all the equipment they need, taking photos of some of it first so they can put it back in the exact same spot. Then they set up in one of the emptier storage rooms, attaching monitors to her head and chest.

"So our prevailing theory is that your abilities are triggered by strong emotions," Fitz says, even though she already knows. It’s something they’ve discussed at length, hidden away in his bunk or the lab after most of the base has gone to bed. "But with proper focus you should be able to channel them at will."

He picks a large basin of water up off a shelf and rests it at her feet.

"So concentrate, try not to get angry, and see what you can do with this," he steps back and picks up his tablet to check on her vitals. 

"Easier said than done," she mutters under her breath.


	92. Stray (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"You did what?" he screaches.

"Well I wasn’t just going to leave him out there, Fitz," she looks him incredulously. "It’s raining."

"Which means he’s tracking mud through the house," Fitz points at the trail of dirty water leading from the front door to the dog currently sitting next to Skye.

"Seriously? That’s no harder to clean up than any of your experiments," she tells him, resting one hand on her hip. "We ripped the carpets out for a reason."

That reason was a hole he accidentally burned through the floor once when working in the living room.

"Listen," he says matter-of-factly, as if that’s even been enough to sway Skye to his side of an argument, "I think I’ve become a pretty easy going guy since we moved in together—"

Skye tries and fails to hold back a laugh at that comment. He still snaps at her for not remembering to wipe of the lid of the nutella jar before she puts it away, and he actually got annoyed that one time she greeted him at the door in her underwear.

"— But a dog is just too much responsibility. Who’s going to take care of him when we’re out of town working?"

She ignored his comments and walks towards him with a smirk on her face, the dog padding after her, his fluffy tail wagging hopefully.

She leans in his ear and whispers, “I named him Iggy.”

And that’s when he knows there’s no point in arguing. They’ve officially become dog owners.


	93. Snowball Fight (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!" Skye curses at the top of her lungs.

A day off is exactly what the doctor ordered. Still, she’s pretty sure the doctor would have protested against the melting snow currently running down the inside of her shirt (or maybe it’s just her that’s protesting).

"You little shit," she bends down to scoop up some snow of her own, while also trying to figure out how Fitz got a snowball to perfectly hit the square inch of skin not covered by her scarf and jacket.

Are remote controlled snowballs a thing? Because she wouldn’t put it past him. Either way, the guy is in some serious need of payback and she’s just the girl to give it to him.

All that training with May must be paying off, because her own snowballs make contact with impressive accuracy. Even the ones that just hit his chest puff upwards spraying cold snow on his face.

"I give up," he yields after he’s fallen to his knees a few feet away.

One last snowball in hand, she stands in front of him, setting up her aim.

The suddenly there’s an overwhelming cold sensation down the back of her coat, even worse than the first snowball.

As it turns out, remote controlled snowballs are definitely a thing, and they’re huge.


	94. Hold My Hand (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“What? It’s sweet,” Fitz argues when Jemma shoots him that look. She doesn’t seem to agree.

Still, he can’t help but flinch when Skye jumps off the stage and onto the table in front of him.

“It’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide,” she crawls towards him and she sings off key. “I can’t hide,” her singing gets progressively louder. “I can’t hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide,” she screeches.

Avoiding all eye contact with Jemma (and Trip, and Hunter, and Mack, and Bobbi, and every other person in the bar) he holds up a hand for her to grab.

He should have just said yes when she asked him to do a duet. Even with her standard tipsy theatrics, there’s no way ‘I Got You Babe’ could be more awkward than this.


	95. Please Come Get Me (Leo Fitz/Skye)

When the coordinates first pop up on the screen of his workstation computer, Fitz just sighs and wishes Skye was there to explain how the hell they got there. Is it a virus? Should he be concerned about a breech in the base’s security system?

He’s brushing his teeth that night when it clicks in his mind.

He runs back to his computer and googles the exact coordinates. It’s a Steak n’ Shake in a suburb outside of Indianapolis.

Skye.

It’s got to be Skye, reaching out after slipping away in the middle of the night over a month ago.

She’d said she was going to find people like her. Fitz wondered if her current location meant that she hadn’t been successful, or that finding other gifteds like her hadn’t meant finding the home she’d been hoping for.

He also wondered how the hell he was going to sneak out and find her, with all the new security upgrades that had been made in the last month.


	96. Coitus Interruptus (Leo Fitz/Skye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic AU for the prompt "My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on"

“Ignore it,” Skye says when the phone starts ringing.

At least that’s what Fitz thinks she says; it’s a little hard to understand her with her mouth full of his shirt, which she swears she can unbutton using just her teeth.

(She’s not having much success)

Impatient, Fitz tunes out the ringing and take care of the buttons himself.

“The only people who even call the landline are telemarketers and my dad,” Skye adds.

They make quick work of the rest of their clothes, so by the time the answering machine picks up Skye is down to her underwear and Fitz is wearing nothing but his tie.

“Hey sweetie, it’s your dad,” Mr. Coulson’s voice breaks into the living room. Fitz automatically springs backwards away from Skye, at the sound of his voice. “I assume you’re out picking up wine or running some other last minute errand, but I’m just calling to say that I’m running a few minutes late and just leaving right now. I should be at your place in about 15 minutes. Love you, bye.”

“Fuck,” Skye curses loudly. “I thought he was coming over Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday,” Fitz tells her.

Skye throws her hands in the air in dismay, “I guess he’s coming over for takeout then. At least I stopped by the liquor store over the weekend. You go get dressed, and I’ll make sure we have clean dishes.”

Awkwardly, Fitz looks down at his crotch. Skye follows his gaze and lets out a snort.

“Maybe a cold shower first,” she suggests. “I’ll tell him you spilled something on yourself at work and wanted to make yourself presentable.”

And with that, Fitz is off and running to the bathroom before Skye can even remind him to take his discarded clothes with him.


	97. Movie Night (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“If you’re not out here in 2 minutes, I’m starting without you,” Fitz hears Skye call from the living room.

He blinks his blurry eyes and takes one final look at the computer screen before deciding that’s enough for tonight.

“That’s not much of a threat this time,” he mutters as he walks down the hall to the living room. “Holy shit.”

At some point in the two hours he’s been shut away in the spare bedroom, fiddling with some schematics for a work project, Skye has managed to drag every blanket and pillow in the house into the living room (even the ones from the spare bedroom, which he never noticed her taking). She’s also managed to cover every square inch of their coffee table with food and drinks.

“Do we really need gummy bears and gummy worms?” he asks, after taking in the scene before him.

“Yes,” Skye tells him. “There’s also gummy sharks, with that opaque white gummy stuff on the bottom.”

Careful not to trip over the pillows, Fitz makes his way the couch and grabs the bowl of popcorn off the table. Skye is already curled up in a cocoon of blankets with a pint of ice cream. Awkwardly, she shifts inch by inch until she’s pulled herself and all her blankets up against Fitz.

“So what’re we watching?” Fitz eats a handful of popcorn and searches the table for something to drink. He settles for a bottle of coke.

“Pride & Prejudice,” Skye replies.

“But you just made me sit through that two weeks ago,” Fitz complains. 

“No that was the 1995 miniseries,” Skye tells him. “This is the movie from 2005. It has Kiera Knightley.”

Fitz sighs deeply and takes a gulp of his soda. Next time they do movie night, he’s going to insist on picking what they watch. 

In the meantime, though, Kiera Knightley isn’t so bad.


	98. Paint Swatches (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Too dark,” Fitz responds to the deep purple paint chip Skye holds up.

“Still too dark,” he says to the next one.

“Seriously, are you just holding up the same swatch each time?” he asks when she holds up the next one.

On a whim, Skye reaches down the aisle and grabs a much brighter paint chip.

“Yellow? Really?” Fitz asks, already shaking it’s head.

“Excuse you, it’s not yellow. It’s Fervent Brass,” Skye corrects him as she reads the name printed on the card.

“It’s fervently hideous, that’s what it is,” he tells her, reaching past her to grab his own set of paint swatches.

“What about Sleep Baby Sleep?” he holds up a light blue.

“It puts me to sleep,” Skye tells him. “That’s a baby room color.”

“It’s better than your dark purples,” he responds. “Everyone knows that light colors make a room seem bigger, while dark colors make them seem smaller. We need something light.”

Skye’s laughing so hard she can barely tell him the name of her next color selection.

“Hamster.”

“Hamster’s aren’t green,” he shakes his head.

Eventually they leave with a mauve-y beige color called “Naughty Neutral.”

Skye can’t say the name without shaking her hips suggestively.


	99. Taste Test (Leo Fitz/Skye)

"Oh! Hey! Could you come and taste this to see if it’s okay?"

Closing the refrigerator door, Fitz crosses the kitchen to look over Skye’s shoulder.

“Mac and cheese?” he asks.

“Yep,” she nods.

“It’s literally just pasta and cheese, how could it not be okay?” Fitz looks at Skye with confusion.

“Yeah, but it’s not the kind in the blue box, so I could totally fuck it up,” she explains.

“Fine, give me a taste,” Fitz holds out his arm for the spoon Skye is currently using the stir the pot.

Ignoring his hand, she scoops out a tiny bit of pasta and holds it up to his mouth. He takes a bite.

“Bacon?” Fitz asks after he’s swallowed the food.

“Yeah, and I’m going to sprinkle bread crumbs in when it’s done. I saw it on Pinterest,” Skye shrugs.

“That explains why you’ve been even more glued to your computer than usual.”

“It’s a total time suck, but it has recipes for little cakes you can bake in mugs in the microwave. No more making giant cakes and only eating half of them before we make ourselves sick.” Clearly the Pinterest monster has gotten to Skye, because she’s never been this excited about baking before.

“But I like the full cakes,” Fitz pouts. “They help me maintain my girlish figure.”


	100. Immortal AU (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“Your hands are cold,” is the first thing he says to her.

Immediately, Jemma pulls her hands away from him and blows a little on them to warm them up. Then she gets back to work.

“Also you haven’t told me your name,” he says next. “Maybe it’s a little old fashioned of me, but I like to have a girl’s name before I let her feel me up.”

“Sorry,” she replies, not moving her hands from her current position on his chest. “It’s Jemma. Doctor Jemma Simmons. I should have told you that before I started, I guess I’m just a little over eager.” She shrugs. “It’s just that I’ve read your files and you’re absolutely fascinating. I mean, you’ve been alive for centuries. The things we could learn from your body…” she trails off in wonderment.

“Don’t worry Jemma,” he grins at her until she meets his gaze. “So far I think you’re absolutely fascinating, too.”


	101. Star Trek AU (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Are you sure you’re not part Vulcan?” Skye leans over to say in Fitz’s ear.

He jumps a little, startled because he hadn’t realized she was standing behind him in line in the mess hall.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he grumbles. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

Being a teenaged science prodigy means that Fitz has been listening to Vulcan jokes for nearly a decade now. They’re unoriginal, even when they come from mouth of a cute tactical officer.

Leaning over, Skye grabs the top of his right ear and rubs it between her fingers.

“Nope, definitely human,” she pronounces.

Fitz freezes. This should definitely feel like an invasion of personal space, but it doesn’t. In fact, it’s kind of pleasant. That realization alone makes him want to forget lunch entirely and go hide in his lab for the rest of the day.


	102. Celebrity AU (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Can I sit here?” a woman’s voice startles Fitz from article he’s reading on his StarkPad.

It belongs to a girl who looks to be a couple of years younger than him, with dark, wavy hair and glowing golding skin. She’s panting a little, like she just ran into the coffee shop.

Fitz takes a moment to look around the store, trying to figure out why strange woman would want to sit with him. Admittedly, his booth is in a prime location, in a quiet, private corner. But there are plenty of other open tables, and none of them would involve the stress of sitting with a complete stranger.

Still, he nods, and she slides in across from him, looking visibly relieved.

Fitz turns back to his screen, but finds it hard to concentrate. The girl pulls out her phone and starts tapping away at it.

Seconds later, three men with large, professional looking cameras walk press their faces up against the front windows of the coffee shop. Apparently they don’t find whatever it is they’re looking for, because they head down the block.

To Fitz, it’s weird, but no one else in the cafe seems to notice. It must be an LA thing. Fitz thinks he’ll be glad when this conference is over and he can go back to school, where people act more normal.

Once the men are out of sight, the girl sitting across from him throws her phone back into her bag and stands up.

“You’re a life saver,” she says, the strolls out the door and down the block, in the opposite direction of the men with the cameras.

That’s when Fitz notices she doesn’t even have a cup of coffee in her hands.

Must be another weird LA thing.

As soon as she’s gone, Jemma, now armed with her second cup of tea, slides into her vacated spot.

“Was that Skye?” she asks, strangely excited.

“Skye who?” Fitz replies.

“Skye. You know, international pop star, billionaire, red carpet darling,” Jemma elaborates.

Fitz shakes his head.

“You need to get out more,” Jemma tells him, then grabs her own phone. “I’ll play her new song for you, it’s called ‘Shake Down.’”


	103. Breathe Again (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

For a moment Jemma forgets to breathe. Her heart beats a mile a minute, her arms raise in self-defense, and she yelps.

It only takes her a few seconds to realize that no, she’s not being attacked from behind. If someone really wanted to hurt her, or even just temporarily disable her, they wouldn’t be holding onto her so loosely, and they probably would have covered her eyes with something more than a hand.

“Guess who,” a terrible French accent mumbles into her ear.

Jemma takes a deep breath then lets out a loud sigh.

“This is incredibly immature, Trip,” she tells him.

She can hear him chuckle in her ear as he removes his hands from her eyes, “But it worked.”

“You’re lucky I wasn’t holding anything dangerous,” she gestures towards the unstable chemicals she was about to combine.

“Not lucky, safe,” he corrects her. “I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for you to but the explosives down.”

That doesn’t surprise her. As a Specialist, Trip’s an expert and waiting quietly in the shadows. And she’s been known to get so involved in her work that she doesn’t notice anything else.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m going to have to get you back for this,” Jemma informs him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	104. Dreams (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“Late night?” Skye asks when Jemma doesn’t appear in the kitchen for breakfast until ten. She’s got bruise-like bags under her eyes.

Jemma shakes her head and looks down into her tea.

“Dreams,” is all Jemma says.

“Bad dreams?” Skye raises her eyebrows.

“Wonderful dreams, actually,” Jemma mumbles.

Skye’s brow furrows in confusion, “Then why do you look so upset?”

Because Trip is dead, Jemma wants to say. Because for a brief moment I forgot that he was dead and I got to sit across from him at this exact table and just talk about our days. And we laughed. And it was wonderful, and now I miss him even more.

All she says is, “I woke up.”


	105. Electric (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“Wow,” Skye pants, trying to catch her breath, “That was—“

“Earth-shattering?” Lincoln provides for her, kicking out a leg from his kneeling position to stretch it.

And maybe it’s the thin air up here in Afterlife, or the relief of finally having her abilities at least somewhat under control, but Skye feel relaxed enough to laugh.

“I mean, I was going to with electric, but,” she tells him and he hold up his hands, the electrical charges shooting out from his fingertips a couple of inches before disappearing into the air, “unless you can do that with your tongue too, that doesn’t explain the tingling sensation I’m feeling.”

“I did say it was every cell in my body, Skye,” he smiles at her in a way that manages to be simultaneously dirty and dorky.

“Well,” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “I will have to file that information away from future use.”

Now, the dirty completely disappears from his smile. He just looks happy. And here, on the top of the mountain in god only knows where, Skye is happy too.

“Well, future use is going to have to wait until after pizza,” Lincoln rises to his feet. “Gordon should be back with it any minute now.”

He takes a few steps back towards the compound before turning back and holding out a hand for Skye.

It doesn’t undo her worries about the whereabouts of her team, or her ever-present nerves when it comes to most of Afterlife’s inhabitants, but for now Skye’s okay with taking things one step at a time. And Lincoln Campbell is a pretty good first step.


	106. Pizza Night (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“I told you pizza night was worth sticking around for,” Lincoln comments as he bites into his fourth slice of deep dish.

Skye’s only on her second, but they’ve got two boxes set out in front of them, so really she’s just pacing herself.

“I’ve been living off popcorn and salad for a week, you could give me McDonald’s and it would taste gourmet,” she argues.

He is right, though. Thanks to her time in her van and her work with SHIELD, Skye’s eaten pizza in over a dozen different states, and just under ten different countries. The stuff Gordon teleported in with is the real deal. She might actually end the night in a cheese and pepperoni induced coma.

“Which reminds me, our popcorn stash is getting low, I think we need to cut out popcorn breakfasts,” he tells her.

Skye gives him an amused look, “But how will I live without my popcorn breakfast burritos?”

Li Shi actually does a decent breakfast, and it’s the one meal where Skye can find something close to junk food (not that eggs and bacon are really junk food, but Lincoln wasn’t kidding when he told her about the heavy kale usage in Afterlife). A popcorn breakfast burrito does sound promising, though. She’ll have to give it a try when they aren’t running out of the stuff.

She is curious, though.

“How do you even get popcorn in here?” Skye asks. She’s seen the fields where vegetables are grown, and the chicken coop where their eggs must come from. But her beloved popcorn and bacon must be brought in from outside.

“Gordon,” Lincoln replies, as he reaches for another slice of pizza.

“Seriously?” Skye’s not sure how one man could bring in enough food to feed everyone on the mountain.

“Yeah,” Lincoln nods. “He teleports to a different city each time, fills up a few shopping carts with whatever we need, wraps his arms around them, and teleports back in. Sometimes we have shopping cart races before we return them.” Skye’s trying to picture Gordon going unnoticed a super market when Lincoln adds, “Also, if you look up you’ll see that the word ‘gullible’ is written on the ceiling.”

Skye laughs and swats at him before moving onto her third slice of pizza.


	107. Netflix (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“Not that I’m not really impressed, but there are definitely rules against this?” Lincoln stares with wide eyes at Skye’s laptop screen.

“Are there?” Skye asks innocently. “No one gave me the official Afterlife rulebook, so I can’t be held responsible for breaking any rules I don’t know about.”

“Skye, they won’t even tell us what country we’re in—“ Lincoln starts.

“China.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” he argues.

“No, but I have eyes and ears. It looks like we’re in China, and Li Shi sure as hell sounds like a Chinese name,” Skye rolls her eyes.

“Which would be a great misdirect if we were actually in Russia or Ethiopia or something,” he tells her.

“Fine, maybe we’re actually in Mississippi for all I know,” Skye humors him. “I actually have GPS capabilities on this, but I haven’t turned them on so I think that should count in my favor.” Lincoln looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t open his mouth. “And I’m going to use that favor to open up my Netflix account.”

“Netflix?” Lincoln sounds suspicious. “Not contacting your friends to let them know you’re okay?”

“If I thought I could get away with that, I would. But I’m counting on your silence, and since Gordon already said no to contacting them…”

“I would not help you do that,” he finishes for her.

“Which is why I am settling for Netflix,” Skye concludes. “So if you keep your mouth shut about it, I’ll let you watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Why would I want to watch Grey’s Anatomy?” Lincoln looks at her with a mix of disgust and confusion.

“Because you’re in med school, obviously.”


	108. Scars (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

If he hadn’t frozen up when his hand brushed against the scars, he wouldn’t have even noticed them. He’s seen them, of course, while he delivers her acupuncture treatments. But he’d never given them much thought until now.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” she tells him quickly (too quickly), before her mouth is on his, and her hands make for the button of his jeans.

Considering the fact that her hands were nowhere near there before he asked, it seems an awful lot like she’s desperate to avoid talking about the scars.

He pulls back from her, “Listen I don’t want to pry…” but he also doesn’t want to have sex with someone who’s only willing because the other option is worse.

“Great, then don’t,” she smiles what should probably be a reassuring smile.

It’s not.

“Maybe we should just turn the movie back on,” he suggests. It seems like a decent compromise.

She’s confused at first, maybe a little worried (not that she should be, he’s pretty sure he’s made his feelings clear at this point), but she shimmies out of his lap and sits back next to him on the couch.

He leans over and grabs the half-empty bowl of popcorn and the remote of the coffee table, to turn on whatever movie he forgot they were watching.

He’s distracted and she’s distracted, so they’re both only half-aware that there’s a sex scene happening on the screen in front of them when she says, “I was shot.”

He’d figured that much out (he is, after all, in med school), but rather than say that he just nods, “Okay.”

“I was shot and I would have died but they put Kree blood in my system, so all I’ve got left to show for the whole shebang is these scars,” Skye elaborates.

Despite his attempts to hide his concern, his eyebrows do shoot up at the mention of Kree (really, as her medical provider, he probably should have been made aware of that a while ago, but that probably doesn’t matter anymore).

She’s looking at him nervously, like she needs to him to react in some way. But this is totally out of his comfort zone, even with his own unique ability.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he eventually says.

He realizes how ridiculous that sounds as soon as the words leave his mouth.

But apparently ridiculous is exactly what Skye needed. She laughs too, briefly, then leans against his shoulder and turns her focus back to the tv.

“If that even physically possible?” she asks.

Lincoln looks away from her and towards the movie. It seems the sex scene they’ve been ignoring involves two contortionists.

“I mean, I know a guy who can change the physical properties of his anatomy, and he could probably do that. But for the rest of us…”


	109. Observation (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“This is ridiculous,” Skye tells him for the eighth time. “I’m fine, I don’t need to be under constant observation.”

“You had a seizure and passed out,” Lincoln states.

“And you ran a whole bunch of tests, each of which says I’m fine,” she reminds him.

“And then you mentioned the alien blood,” he counters, “and the wall carving, and the maps, and whole slowing losing your mind thing.”

“Not my mind, Coulson’s,” Skye tells him. It’s a big distinction.

“Yes, well it’s been decided by the elders that you are under my constant observation for the next 48 hours to ensure your physical and mental health. So your options are me on a cot in your room, or you on the examination table in the transitioning room,” he shrugs.

When he puts it that was, tolerating a cot in her bedroom doesn’t sound too bad.

“Fine, but you’d better not creep on me while I sleep,” she warns him.

“As long as you don’t have a seizure.”

–

It’s nearly midnight and Skye’s exhausted from lessons with Jiaying. Lincoln’s her constant, quiet shadow all day and it hasn’t been too bad.

Until she notices that the so-called cot in her room is more of a mat. An incredibly uncomfortable looking mat.

“That’s what you’re sleeping on?” she asks when Lincoln trails into the room after her, a rolled up t-shirt and pair of pajamas bottoms tucked under one arm.

“It’s two nights, Skye, I’ll live,” he tells her.

So Skye brushes her teeth and changes into her own pajamas. Lincoln’s already lying on the mat when she emerges from the bathroom.

“Seriously, that’s gotta be painful,” she tells him as she crawls into her bed.

“Could be worse,” is all he says.

Admittedly, Skye knows that there are worse places to sleep than a hard floor (a power inhibiting cell, and a remote cabin built to contain the Hulk spring to mind, and those have nothing to do with a stiff neck in the morning).

“Get in,” she tells him, sliding to the end of her bed and patting the spot next to her.

He looks up at her in amusement, “It’s a twin bed.”

“Better than a wood floor.”

“It’s unprofessional,” he tries again.

“You’re had me lying naked on a table, with nothing but a paper gown covering my junk,” Skye points out, “but you’re worried about the prospect of cuddling?”

He rolls his eyes at her comment, but instead of pointing out that all of that was done in a medical context, he kicks off him flimsy blanket and slides in next to her.

Satisfied, Skye rolls onto her back and turns off the lights.

She doesn’t get much sleep that night. Lincoln is as stiff as a board (and she doesn’t mean it in the exciting way), and his apprehension rolls off him in waves. Skye fidgets, but can’t get comfortable.

But at least no one has to sleep on the floor.


	110. Ice Cream and Conversations (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“I was promised pizza,” Skye teases Lincoln when he appears with the carton of ice cream.

“And if I could teleport, we would have pizza,” he reassures her. “And the popcorn with movie theater butter, and chocolate, and—“

“Shouldn’t the future doctor care more about healthy eating?” she pats the spot next to her on the couch, motioning for him to join her.

Lincoln rolls his eyes, “I’m pretty sure the long hours and stress aren’t going to leave me much time for cooking healthy foods.” He sighs and falls back heavily onto the couch. “That is if I ever manage to finish school.”

Skye raises her eyebrows at him questioningly.

“Believe it or not, it’s a little hard to finish school when Gordon pops in and whisks you away in the middle of the semester,” Lincoln admits.

“Well, as romantic as Gordon whisking you away sounds,” she teases, patting him on the leg for emphasis, “I thought you said it’s been years since anyone transitioned.”

“It has, but after someone’s transitioned their biology is altered and they can’t just get looked after at a hospital,” Lincoln focuses on opening the frozen shut container of cookie dough ice cream, then hands it and a spoon to Skye. “I’m not the only medical practitioner they can use, but there’s only a few.”

Skye nods, taking this all in as she eats the ice cream. There’s a pretty large number of people currently residing in the Afterlife, but Lincoln’s told her it’s just a fraction of their numbers and Skye’s seen for herself how many more people it can hold.

She’s also seen Jemma struggle to care for just their whole team, she can’t imagine just a few doctors looking after all the Inhumans.

“Sounds inconvenient,” she tells him sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he admits, then forces himself to perk back up. “But I’m almost done with school.”

“And after that?” Skye asks. Lincoln’s been the most forthcoming person on this compound, but she still knows next to nothing about him, just where he’s from, what his abilities are, and that he’s a med student.

“I’ve been invited to live here permanently,” he tells her. She can’t quite read how he feels about that.

“Is that good or bad?” she asks, even though she’s pretty sure his blank face in intentional and she’s not going to get much out of him.

“Well it comes with room and board,” he jokes, “but it’s way too hard to get my hands on junk food up here.”

It’s not a straightforward answer, but when he takes the ice cream out of her lap and digs in with his own spoon, Skye knows the conversation is over.


	111. Drunk (Team Merc)

“But if you had to,” Hunter poses his new favorite question.

Izzy, who has long since become sick of being asked, rolls her eyes. Idaho, always amused by the lengths Hunter will (unsuccessfully) go to get an answer to this question, smirks into his glass.

“But I don’t have to,” Izzy replies. “There’s a cute blonde checking me out from the corner booth and even if there wasn’t, I can satisfy myself better than either of you could.”

“You don’t know that,” Hunter argues, drunk enough to not realize how loud he’s being.

“The walls were really thin in Durban,” Idaho comments. “Everyone knows how unsatisfactory you are.”

Hunter’s eyes close into a glare and he points accusingly at his friend, “You, shut your mouth.” Then he turns to Izzy, “And you, answer the question.”

In the past, Izzy’s spent hours creatively dodging the question of which of her teammates she would sleep with, in some unspecified situation where she absolutely had to.

But tonight there’s a successful mission to celebrate and a woman all but panting over her from across the room. She doesn’t have time for a few rounds of verbal sparring with Hunter.

“Idaho,” she says, throwing back her beer with one hand and flagging down the bartender with the other. “No question.”

“I knew it,” is all Idaho says in response. He sounds neither pleased nor disappointed, just interested in seeing how Hunter takes the news.

Which he does so by pouting.

“Idaho?” he asks. “Why would you choose Idaho? We named him after the potato state.”

Quickly, Izzy orders another glass of whiskey from the bartender before turning back to Hunter, “Well for one thing, he doesn’t keep pestering me about fucking him. And I’m not really into Bobbi’s sloppy seconds.”

“There is nothing sloppy about my seconds,” Hunter gasps, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. Unfortunately for him, his drunken lack of coordination causes his hand to collide with his glass, sending a puddle of beer spilling onto the bar counter.

The bartender slides a pile of napkins towards Hunter at the same time he slides a fresh drink towards Izzy. Catching it easily, Izzy stands up out of her seat.

“You’re definitely sloppy something,” she tells Hunter as she leaves her two partners in hopes of finding some better company for the night.


	112. Scared (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

She’s staring into Jemma’s eyes and leaning her head down to close the distance between them, so certain of exactly where this is going when suddenly Jemma takes a step back, pushing her arms out and shoving Bobbi back as well.

She hadn’t seen that coming.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma mumbles, not meeting her eyes. “I want to, I really do, but,” she pauses, whether to decide on the most accurate words or to gather the courage to say it, Bobbi’s not sure, “I don’t trust you.”

Courage, then, because the moment they leave Jemma’s lips they sound certain.

“Oh,” is all Bobbi can say in return.

She’s not surprised, not really. With all the secrets that stood between them, the infiltration and opposing sides, the changes of heart and the reconciliation, it’s perfectly reasonably that Jemma wouldn’t be completely sold on her intentions.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Jemma isn’t the first person Bobbi’s cared for who ultimately couldn’t trust her. Her comment digs a little into wounds that haven’t quite healed.

Bobbi takes a few more steps back and says, “I should go.”

Clearly even more uncomfortable than she was moments ago, Jemma stares at her feet and replies, “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

Later, after a vigorous workout and a long shower, Bobbi would review their conversation and let the clear emotion in Jemma’s voice give her a little bit of hope. But for now, as she strides through the base, unsure of exactly where she wants to be, all Bobbi feels is unsettled, off her game.


	113. Quietly (Isabelle Hartley & Lance Hunter)

The last person he wants to see after Bobbi leaves is Isabelle Hartley.

But he needs to get away, out of a house filled with constant reminders. And he needs the money, something Izzy promises him there will be plenty of.

So he meets her at the coordinates she sends, and he follows the instructions she gives, and aside from Idaho’s sprained wrist, everything goes smoothly.

Until they’re sitting in a bar, drinking their way through their profits. Now Lance has the space in his brain to consider where Bobbi could be right now, and who she could be with.

He chugs the remainder of his beer and makes his way to the bar for another. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the necessary cleavage to entire the bartender to serve him promptly, so it takes him a while to get served. To make up for this, and because he plans on thoroughly drowning his sorrows tonight, he orders another beer and shot of the strongest whiskey in the bar.

When he returns to their booth, Idaho has excused himself to use the bathroom, and Izzy is giving him the concerned look he’s been waiting for over the last 48 hours.

“Just don’t,” he tells her, as he slides into his seat. “Tonight I am going to get so wasted that I can’t think, and tomorrow I’ll be so hungover my brain won’t have room to miss her.”

“You’ll get through this, you know,” Izzy promises him, in one of those rare moments when she’s not playing the put-upon older sister role.

It actually makes him nervous.

“Will I?” he asks. It’s part flippant retort, part honest uncertainty. “I left a successful military career to marry a spy. Shockingly, that didn’t work out, and I have no fucking clue what happens next.”

He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, but he certainly feels it. He should have known better. He should have known this wouldn’t end well.

He just wishes he was angry enough to stop missing her.

“You’ll drink, and drink, and drink some more,” she predicts. Eventually you’ll sober up enough to do your job. And then you’ll sober up enough for some meaningless sex with women you have to remind yourself not to call be her name. And eventually, it will feel less like the end of the world.”

“And how do you know so much on the subject?” he snaps, certain no one can understand how awful he feels.

“I’ve lived through it,” she says quietly, a statement it takes months to get her to elaborate on.


	114. Through Your Teeth (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“I’m not worried,” Bobbi says. “I mean, of course I’m worried. I love you; it’s dangerous, but you can handle yourself.”

Bobbi may be a good spy and a practiced liar, but Jemma sees right through that.

Somehow she talks Skye into stepping in, just to give her a better picture of exactly how worried Bobbi is.

“Well I didn’t lie when I said Jemma can handle herself,” Bobbi admits when Skye asks her about it. “She knows how to play into other people’s expectations of her, I mean she’s gotten the drop on me before.”

“But you’re still going to be up all night, beside yourself with worry?” Skye guesses.

“Let’s just say I’d feel better if I was going along with her on this mission,” is all Bobbi offers. She knows May has the connections they need and enough fighting skills to make even Bobbi worry about going up against her, but she’d still prefer to be in on the action. Sitting on the sidelines for this mission will be hard.

But that’s just how the spy game goes sometimes. Jemma will get through it, she’ll get through it, and she won’t have to worry again until the next time Xenobiology becomes a field mission must-have.


	115. Asleep (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

Maybe it’s her spy training, or maybe she’s just so well rested that it doesn’t take much to wake her, but when Lincoln slides out of bed just before dawn, Skye notices.

She listens as he tip toes around the room, picking up his shirt and his pants (how they got under the lamp is beyond her, but he has to pick it up to grab them). 

He pauses in the doorway and whispers to himself, “You fucked up big time.”

On instinct, Skye squeezes her eyes shut tightly. She’s not sure what he means by that, but she knows it’s not something she should have heard.

Back in the safety of his own room, Lincoln falls back against his bed, not bothering to crawl under the covers or even put his head on a pillow. He has to be up in two hours and his head is spinning with enough thoughts that he’ll be lucky to fall asleep 5 minutes before his alarm goes off.

Having feelings for a girl with one foot out the door was bad enough, but actually sleeping with her? He’s totally screwed.

Skye is going to leave. No amount of beautiful scenery or any mysterious mother (not that anyone’s told him about that, but it’s pretty obvious) has kept Skye from asking about her friends. She’s going to go back with them.

Lincoln allows himself 5 seconds to entertain thoughts of a long distance relationship, but he can’t make it work in his head. She’s a spy. Spies travel the world, doing secret things they can’t share with anyone. They don’t date future doctors who live in Ohio (and even with the powers, Lincoln doesn’t feel like much more than an average guy).

Which is why he told himself he wasn’t going to let things get this far. He was going to be a friend to Skye, that much he can handle.

But this… he’s completely out of his league.


	116. Distracted (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“And then, after my Beginner’s Earthbending lesson with Jiaying, I was thinking we could cover ourselves with chocolate and streak through the compound,” Skye tells him, waiting for a reaction.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts, it actually takes him a moment to realize what she’s said.

“Pass. The water pressure in my shower is really bad, it’d be hard to clean up afterwards,” he covers.

He’s waiting for Skye’s reply, which he’s pretty sure will be some sort of offer to give him a hand with that (and it would be totally tempting, except for the whole naked in public thing), but instead she decides to be observant.

“Something on your mind?” she asks.

Lincoln sighs, “Just home stuff.”

“Cincinnati home stuff?” Skye clarifies. He hasn’t really mentioned anything about that in a while.

“Yeah,” he leans back to stretch, trying unsuccessfully to push the stressful thoughts out of his mind. “It’s hard to make rent payments when you’re off the grid, and I’m missing a whole bunch of school stuff.”

“Then maybe that girl you’re here to help should get a move on,” Skye jokes, but he can sense the worry in her words.

“Even if you did,” he reassures her, “Raina’s still got a long way to go, plus I’m doing annual exams on a bunch of residents. It’s not just you keeping me here.”

“Good to know,” Skye shrugs and Lincoln’s a little confused because she almost sounds disappointed to not be the only thing making him so stressed.

“I just have to talk Gordon into taking me back for a few days to iron things out,” he promises her. “No big deal.”

Except it will be. But at least Gordon and the Elders understand that he needs to finish school in order to be more useful to them. It shouldn’t be too hard to talk them into a few days away.

Explaining his absence to everyone in Cincinnati will hard, though. He’s running out of dead and sick relatives to use as excuses.


	117. Eavesdropping (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly. He just happens to be walking by Jemma’s room and he just happens to hear her mention his name. And after that? Well he can’t resist the urge to hear exactly what he baby sister has to say about him.

“No, he did it again. Part of me wants to tell Mum and Dad, in hopes that they’ll be able to knock some sense into him.”

He knew she was way too kind about him coming home late last night. He wasn’t even drunk this time, and it’s not like he has anything better to do on a Thursday night. Not since he left school.

“I just worry. He used to be more focused, now he’s just aimless.”

Well, she might have a point there. But Uni just didn’t work out. He’ll figure something out eventually.

“I mean yes, obviously that has a big effect on him. But it’s more than the breakup.”

At least she knows that. He might be devastated about Bobbi dumping him (although he’s managed to move on from the wallowing in self-pity phase).

“He left an air force brochure in the bathroom, so I think he might be considering that.”

Oops, no one was supposed to know about that yet.

“You’re right, it could be a great thing. Or it could get him killed.”

Yes, that particular thought had already crossed his mind multiple times. But hearing Jemma say it feels like a punch in the chest.

“Like I said, I just worry. But he won’t ask me for advice, to him I’m just the know it all little sister.”

Not just the know it all little sister. The know it all little sister with the big heart. It’s just hard to compete with someone who has a brain like hers sometimes.

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m keeping quiet, letting him make his own decisions. Anyway, this is too depressing. Let’s talk about something else, anything else.”

And with that, Lance sneaks back to his own room, careful to avoid that one squeaky floorboard that always alerts Jemma of his comings and goings.


	118. Popcorn (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

Skye joins him at the top of the cliff with the announcement, “Just a warning: whatever you have planned, I might pass out in the middle of it.”

Lincoln chuckles, “That’s fine, more popcorn for me,” and lifts the bowl out of his lap to show Skye. “I take it moving mountains isn’t as easy as you thought?”

Skye takes a seat on the ground next to him and, rather than reach over him every time she wants food, takes the bowl of popcorn away from him.

“That’s the thing,” she pauses to throw a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth, “rockslides are the easy part. It’s the small things that are hard, I blew out an entire wall of windows trying to detach one pane.”

Lincoln’s not surprised at all by her statement. With an ability that occurs on a cellular level, it took him a painfully long amount of time to get the hang of it. Unless, of course, he wanted to fry everything he touched, then it was easy.

“You’ll get it,” he promises her. And he doesn’t have a shred of doubt that she will. Never mind skill, which Skye has already shown in spades, he’s pretty sure she could conquer the world with her determination and dedication alone.

Luckily, she hasn’t exhibited any ambitions towards that.

“I know,” Skye replies, ever the optimist. “I just wish I could get it faster.”

Finally giving in a little to her exhaustion, Skye’s shoulders slump. From the way she digs into the popcorn, Lincoln wouldn’t be shocked to find out she skipped dinner to practice more.

He should really advise against that, but he’s not sure it would have any affect.

He wasn’t kidding about the determination and dedication.

Instead, he leans over and grabs the popcorn bowl for himself.

Skye’s reluctant to part with it, but he tells her, “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

She lets go and watches with curiosity as he digs to the bottom and pulls out an unpopped kernel.

“So I thought about what you said,” he tells her, holding the kernel between his thumb and index finger, “and I did a little experimenting.” A lot of experimenting actually, electricity is can be extremely delicate.

Lincoln lets a small spark of electricity pass from his fingers into the kernel. Instantly, it expands into one perfectly popped popcorn kernel.

Skye smiles and even gives him small round of applause, amused by his performance.

“But can you do the whole bowl?” she asks.

He considers, “Yeah, but the microwave is faster.”


	119. Didn't Say At All (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

You know what, Julia? If you want angst, I will give you angst.  
She’s exhausted, and it’s not the kind of exhaustion that a good night’s sleep (or even a good week’s sleep) can fix. It’s the bone-deep weariness that courts insomnia, forcing her thoughts into heartbreaking places as she tosses and turns in hopes of getting at least a few hours of rest.

She should be used to it by now. Between her jump from the cargo bay, Ward’s betrayal, Fitz’s unconscious body in that hospital bed, the terror of being caught undercover and now this, now Trip, the last year has been a giant exercise in how to function on as little sleep as possible.

That doesn’t make the thoughts any less painful.

And tonight they’re all a series of what ifs.

What if she’d acted on her feelings for Trip? What if she’d let him know she was interested, after he’d made his feelings crystal clear?

What if, after all the times she or someone she cared about almost died, she’d shed the last of her naïve feelings of immortality and realized she wouldn’t have forever to act on her feelings?

What if she hadn’t waited?

She lets herself indulge in the fantasies of a smarter Jemma Simmons for minutes at a time. They’re inescapable really; she couldn’t push them away if she wanted to.

And after reality sets in, after the floor falls out from beneath her, she always wishes that she could.

Because Trip is dead, a pile of rocks amongst all the other rubble they carted out of that underground city.

There are no second chances, no opportunities to go back and make better choices, just sleepless nights and thoughts that might as well be nightmares.


	120. 1AM (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Go out,” Jemma had said, “meet new people.”

So when the weird but totally hot girl in the dorm down the hall asked if he was doing that Friday night, he’d told her he was free.

He should have said otherwise. Technically, there’s even a World Civ paper he should be working on. He’d thought anything would be better than working on a pointless assignment for a class he’s only taking because the University demands it.

He’d never guessed that Skye’s idea of a good time was sneaking into an abandoned church at one in the morning.

“Urban tourism,” she’d called it. He’s pretty sure ‘trespassing’ is a more accurate term.

Yet here he is, literally crossing his fingers that the cops won’t show up and Skye won’t accidentally fall through the obviously unsafe floorboards and hurt herself.

He’s waiting for a scream or surprise a shriek of pain, but all he gets is a lecture on the negative effects of outsourcing on local economies.

“That’s the thing, at one point all of these churches were necessary. There was a flourishing population, a thriving city life. But the lure of cheaper labor was hard to resist, cue poverty and people leaving the city in hopes of finding a job, any job, somewhere else,” Skye argues passionately, even though she’s been saying pretty much the same thing for the last half an hour.

Fitz nods along, even though Skye’s on the other side of the room, facing away from him.

She might need to work on her argument organization, but he certain admires her passion. Despite the fear of being caught, he certainly thinks this is a better way to spend a Friday night than working on a dull report on Roman consuls.


	121. Kiss (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“I have to admit I did not see that coming,” Bobbi says, more shocked than anything else.

In a few minutes, she might start to feel a bit disappointed in herself for not seeing that coming, but for now she’s mostly just surprised and elated.

“Oh,” Jemma says, a pink flush rising on her cheeks. She looks over her shoulder, back at the lab she just exited, for a reason to excuse herself.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I totally wanted that to happen,” Bobbi admits readily. She definitely doesn’t want Jemma to think she isn’t interested. (She’s interested. She’s so interested.) “I just thought it would take a little longer for you to catch on.”

“I’m very observant,” Jemma states.

“And I’m very appreciative,” Bobbi counters. She’d expected that she’d have to do weeks of sweaty workout sessions in full view of the lab before Jemma realized she was putting on a show. It had only taken two days.

“So do you want to do it again?” Jemma asks.

Sometimes she’s so direct it takes Bobbi by surprise.

Fortunately, Bobbi likes a little surprise every now and then.


	122. After It Was Over (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“I see you still can’t fight off that urge to throw yourself right in the thick of things,” Jemma comments, taking stock of Bobbi’s injuries. There’s nothing life threatening, but a few are probably quite painful, not that you’d know if from Bobbi’s calm face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so rude.”

Jemma’s flustered. This is hardly the first conversation she’s had with an ex, but the other ones never involved hand to hand combat. None of Jemma’s other exes have ever saved her life.

It makes things feel more complicated.

Bobbi smiles at her, “It’s fine. I’m just glad your safe.”

“Not a scratch on me,” Jemma finds the corners of her mouth quirking upwards to match Bobbi’s smile. “Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”

“I am a specialist,” Bobbi admits. “It’s in the job description.”

Jemma knows. She spent two years patching Bobbi up after every mission, two years seeing the scars that litter Bobbi’s body. But Bobbi came home every time and that’s what mattered.

Until home changed, until Jemma needed to be whisked around the world just as often as Bobbi was, rebuilding SHIELD’s science division, setting up labs across the globe.

Life threatening injuries, their relationship handled those easily. In the end, though, all it took was a little distance to destroy it.

“Still, you look well,” Jemma admits, uncomfortable with the words as soon they leave her mouth. Not only does Bobbi look good physically, healthy, despite the bruises and a few cracked ribs. She looks content, at home with what she’s doing, much less torn than the last time Jemma saw her.

It’s good, really. Jemma’s happy for her. But it hurts a little, too.

Jemma’s content too, but that doesn’t change the fact that she misses Bobbi sometimes. She sees none of that uncertainty in Bobbi’s calm, collected demeanor.

“You do too,” Bobbi tells her, and Jemma swears there’s hidden meaning behind those words. Or maybe she just wants there to be.


	123. Over Tea (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

At this point, Bobbi is used to the way Jemma crinkles her nose in disgust as Bobbi takes a sip from her glass.

“What? It’s tea,” she can’t resist the urge to try and get a rise out of her girlfriend.

Jemma narrows her eyes, “It’s sugar.”

“Sweet tea,” Bobbi corrects. And it’s delicious.

“It’s an abomination,” Jemma states ominously.

Bobbi can’t help but laugh. Jemma’s a huge snob when it comes to tea, and her overreactions are hilarious to Bobbi.

“Jemma, baby,” Bobbi holds her out imploringly. “We’re in Tennessee, in the middle summer, sitting on a wraparound porch at a lovely bed and breakfast.” This is all true. “And you’re drinking hot tea with milk. Can you just humor me and assimilate for two seconds?”

“Two seconds,” Jemma agrees, taking the glass. “Just know that I’ll hate it.” She takes one long sip, and makes an exaggerated grimace. “Yes, just as I thought. It’s awful.”


	124. Bleeding (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons/Skye)

“Shit, are you bleeding?!”

Jemma angles her head to take a look at the cut on the back of her arm.

“It’s just a scratch,” she shrugs. “I’ll have someone take a look at when we get back to base.”

“Like hell you will,” Trip gently guides her in the direction of a seat, “I’m a trained field medic, I’ll take a look at you now.” He heads off towards the front of the jet, where the first aid kit is stored.

Jemma opens her mouth to protest, to remind him that they now have actual medical doctors waiting for them at the Playground, but before she can say anything, Skye is pressing down on her shoulders so she has to take a seat.

“This is why we wear so much black, Skye points to the red stain that has now ruined Jemma’s white blouse. “One trip through the wash and it looks as good as new.”

“Unless it has holes in it,” Jemma comments.

Trip reappears with the tiny first aid kit in his hands.

“And that’s why we’re dating someone with such great medical skills,” he jokes. “To stitch all our clothes back together.”


	125. Fear (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

"Don't fucking touch me."

Lincoln immediately pulls his hand off her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice breaking as she tries to hold back sobs. “I tried to cause a rockslide and now I can’t stop shaking and I- I just feel wrong.”

He’d thought she’d been hurt, that one of the Hydra men she’d been fighting with had shot her or stabbed her or broken a bone or something like that. But right now he almost wishes that was it, because he’s never heard of this happening.

He has no idea what to do.

But someone in Li Shi must know what’s happening. There have been others with Skye’s vibration powers, Jiaying must have some experience with this. She has to.

“Skye,” he tells her, leaning forward so that his face is level with hers, “we need to get out of here. I’m going to need to lift you.”

“Don’t,” she hisses. After a pause she adds, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He considers this. She’s scared, and he doesn’t want to make it any worse. But they need to get out of here before any more Hydra agents appear.

“Then we’ll be careful,” he promises.

Reluctantly, Skye nods her consent and Lincoln shifts into a crouching position.

As he slides one hand under her knees and lifts her, he whispers, “Let me know if anything changes. For better or for worse.”

“Okay,” Skye whispers back, her voice hoarse.

Slowly and as carefully as possible, Lincoln carries her into a nearby cave. It’s dark and damp, and for all he knows there could be wild animals living in it. But it only needs to shelter them until Gordon appears, until they can get help.


	126. Watch Your Step (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“Watch your step,” the words barely make it out of Trip’s mouth before Jemma’s tumbling forward.

She throws her arms out in front of herself and braces for impact. She may not have passed her field exams, but she did at least learn how to fall without breaking every bone in her body.

She never hits the ground, though. One muscular arm wraps around her stomach and grabs her by the waist, while the other one balances against her shoulder as Trip pulls her back to her feet.

“There we go,” he says soothingly. “Maybe now we can agree that walking blindly around the base isn’t exactly safe.”

Jemma walks blindly around the base all the time, he head buried in a journal, in Fitz’s weapon designs, behind a pile of equipment, or just lost in thought. On those occasions, though, blindly isn’t meant as literally as it is right now.

Still, she waves away his concern (at least she thinks she’s waving in Trip’s direction).

“I already told you, the blindness is only temporary,” she starts forward again, now taking more care to test the ground in front of her as she goes. “I’ll be right as rain in a couple of hours.”

Rather than say anything, Trip grabs her firmly by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“And in the meantime, you’re about to walk into a wall,” he warns her.

“Which is why you’re escorting me to my room,” Jemma reminds him. If she won’t be able to see anything for at least another ninety minutes, she might as well use that time to catch up on some of the sleep she’s missed over the last few days.

Jemma turns to her left to avoid the wall, now concerned that she may be aiming herself to take the long route back to her room.

She makes her three steps before she runs into the now familiar strength of Trip’s arms.

“What now?” she huffs, more than a little embarrassed. She’s walked down these hallways thousands of times, she thought she’d be managing a little better.

“Maintenance cart,” he informs her. At least she had no way of predicting that, the cleaning schedules on the base are a little erratic. “Reconsider my offer.”

Jemma sighs heavily, but says, “Alright. But if we run into anyone, you have to put me down.”

Part of her in concerned that Fitz and Skye would be overly worried if they saw her like this. Really, it’s proof that the flash grenades are working properly, and a timely warning that the corresponding safety goggles aren’t. And it’s much better to learn that in the labs, rather than out in the field.

The other part of her, however, is worried that they’d never let her hear the end of this. Blinded by her own invention (well, her joint invention with Fitz, that she had insisted she could test on her own). She’d have to figure out how to get a thicker coating on the goggles without hurting visibility. 

Slowly, Trips slides an arm behind her knees and lifts her up. She wraps her arms around his neck for added security, a movement which forces the sheers she’d previously stuck into her jeans to dig into her leg uncomfortably.

When she explains the situation to Trip, he laughs but sets her down.

“How you don’t get into more lab accidents is beyond me,” he says as he slides the sheers out of her belt loop. She thinks she can hear him set them down on the maintenance cart.

In her defense, she’d used every safety precaution when testing the flash grenades. Accidents just happen sometimes. The sheers she might have to chalk up to exhaustion from all her late nights.

Sharp objects disposed of, Trip lifts her up again, this time throwing her over his shoulder.

“I think I preferred the bridal carry,” she informs his backside as the blood rushes to her head.

Jemma can feel the shrug of Trip’s shoulders against her stomach.

“Good to know,” he says, not letting her down.


	127. Cold (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Skye sighs for the dozenth time, and Fitz’s probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t accompanied by her getting out of her chair and walking towards the hatch in the roof.

“I’ll be outside poking at things until I get the damn signal working again,” she announces.

“Poking?” Fitz looks away from his own computer to ask. Poking seems like an underestimation of whatever Skye’s been doing to ensure all of their electronics are in working order.

“I miss the base,” she tells him. “I miss not struggling to get working Internet.”

Personally, Fitz misses hot food, and sleeping on something other than the flimsy cots they’ve been using. But they should have everything is this safe house up and running in the next couple of days. Then they’ll be able to return to civilization.

“It’s cold out there, take my jacket,” Fitz turns to lift the black jacket off the back of his chair. He’d been outside earlier, double-checking the insulation he patched up yesterday.

Skye’s own jacket suffered as unfortunate (and sticky) accident with an energy drink in the wee hours of yesterday morning.

“Okay Grandma,” Skye teases as she climbs up the ladder on the wall and pops open the hatch. She climbs out onto the rood, completely ignoring the jacket in Fitz’s hand.

Fitz lays the jacket back over his chair, but it’s hard to miss the chilly wind that blows in before Skye gets the door closed.

He waits five minutes before climbing up the ladder and pushing open the wide metal door. He tosses the jacket out onto the roof wordlessly, then climbs back down and gets back to work.

When Skye returns to their little tin shack nearly an hours later, her cheeks are flushed and her hair in windblown. Fitz’s jacket, which she throws unceremoniously into his lap, is cold enough that he almost thinks she ignored it.

But then he notices that the left sleeve is turned inside out. It hadn’t been like that when he gave it to her.


	128. Study (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Remind me again why we decided physical education would be fun?” Skye moans as she practically collapses on Fitz outside the school’s sports arena.

“Because it’s an easy two-credits,” Fitz reminds her. He looks considerably more awake than she does, even though it’s only because he’s currently sipping from his third cup of coffee. “Also, Jemma told us we’d never be able to wake up on time for it, and you took that as a challenge.”

“I took that as a challenge?” Skye snaps, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who told her, and I quote ‘Anyone can be a morning person, Simmons. I just choose not to.’”

As usual, Skye’s approximation of a Scottish accent is terrible. Fitz cringes internally.

“Okay, maybe I have a bit of a competitive streak,” he admits. “But I still have no idea how we ended up in yoga.” He taps on the long yoga mat bag hanging off his shoulder, on loan from Trip for this Tuesday morning class.

Skye narrows her eyes as she tries to remember exactly why they ended up in yoga class and not the racquetball class they’d originally planned on.

“All I remember was that there was alcohol involved,” she eventually tells him.

He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, “That explains a lot.”

Skye in turn sticks her tongue out at him.

Fitz checks his watch, they’ve got 10 minutes before class starts, and only a vague idea of where they’re supposed to be. He finishes the rest of his coffee and throws it in the trash before heading into arena.

“This had better be worth it,” he tells Skye.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll end the semester a more balanced and in tune individual,” she says. She doesn’t believe it. “Or maybe you’ll just stare at my ass in downward dog.”

Fitz sputters, trying to think of something to say to defend himself.

Skye just laughs.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” she says. Fitz’s face turns bright red. “And no, I don’t mind.” He didn’t see that coming. “And if you’re really lucky, I’ll help you study. I’m very… flexible.”

Skye winks over her shoulder and heads off in the direction she thinks the class is taking place. It takes a moment for Fitz to follow her.


	129. Stay Over (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“I’m just saying, if you stay over then no one has to walk five block in the freezing cold in the middle of the night,” Trip offers.

As far as Jemma’s concerned, he does have a point. It’s cold, it’s late, and even though she knows he would walk her home if she asked, it seems kind of rude to make him walk back and forth well after midnight.

“Fine, but I’m taking the couch,” she tells him.

“You know you can have the bed,” he points down the hallway towards the closed bedroom door. “I’m a grown man, I can take the couch for the night.”

“You’re almost six feet tall. You don’t fit on the couch,” Jemma reminds him. “I do.”

The glare she fixes him with makes it crystal clear that she’s not going to change her mind on this one.

Trip sighs, “If you insist.”

He knows better than to push Jemma Simmons after she’s come to a decision. That woman is way too familiar with poisonous chemicals.

Still, when she curls up on his beat-up old couch, he insists on giving her the comforter off his bed. He’ll be fine with the quilt his mother made him when he left home for college.

Which is how Jemma wakes up the next morning, smelling like Trip, and not entirely displeased about i


	130. Edge of consciousness (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

His first instinct is to roll over and swat at his phone, the logical culprit behind for the buzzing coming from the other side of the bed.

But it’s been years since he started leaving his phone on the other side of the room every night, a lesson learned after nearly a thousand dollars worth of replacement phones. Maintaining control over his powers is hard to do when there’s an alarm blaring at 5:30 in the morning and all he wants it to stop.

“That’s really weird you know,” he mumbles half-into his pillow. His second guess as to the source of his early morning wake-up is spot on.

“I’ve been up for a half an hour and you’re lying on top of my pants,” Skye replies.

Lincoln rolls over onto his side to face her. She’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed, her cellphone lying on top of the covers over her lap.

“And your pants are more important than a good night’s sleep?” he asks.

Nothing could possibly be more important than a good night’s sleep, not when they’re finally back and headquarters, and not cramped up in Skye’s van on their cross-country Inhumans tracking road trip.

Skye might love that van, but it didn’t take long for him start missing the Gordon method of travel.

Not that that didn’t come with it’s own downsides, ones that he tries not to think about anymore.

“I am a leader,” Skye declares, leaning over to tug at the black fabric lying under Lincoln’s hip. “I cannot be found leaving my subordinate’s bedroom at 5 o’clock in the morning without any pants.”

Lincoln laughs. It’s not the first time Skye’s brought up the fact that she’s technically his boss, and he can’t decide if she does it to hide her own discomfort with the situation, or if she’s actually really turned on by it.

“As opposed to that Hello Kitty t-shirt you worse in Pasadena,” he teases her. “That was totally professional.”

The buzzing in the mattress starts up again, and Lincoln squirms a bit. It’s a really weird sensation.

“I would like to remind you,” she gently shoves at his side for emphasis, “that the only reason I wore that is because a certain little fire starter wrecked my own t-shirt.”

The fire starter in question is currently asleep down the hall and, as one of Lincoln’s new teammates, part of the reason why Skye felt the need the wake him up instead of leaving her pants behind.

“But we got the job done,” he reminds her, “with only minor injuries and property damage.”

“One of our easier missions,” Skye sighs, then forces herself up out of bed. Stepping into her pants, she tells him, “I think I’ll miss it by the end of the week.”

Lincoln nods enthusiastically. Today they being formal training for the new recruits they’ve spent the last few months collecting. It’s something neither one of them feels prepared for, and something that’s been weighing heavily on their shoulders the last few days.

Lincoln forces himself out of bed and into jeans he left on the floor last night. The addition of a fresh t-shirt means he’s as ready as he can be for whatever today is going to throw at them.

Skye looks less certain, probably because more of this team’s success is riding on her shoulders. It’s gotta be rough, and he’s honestly glad to not be in her shoes.

“I’m feeling like eggs,” he tells her, heading for the bedroom door. “I think that if I start them now, we might actually get to eat before anyone else is up.”

Skye nods at his offer, the best thing he can think of in the face of the stress she’s facing. At least he can take that off her shoulder.

“See you in fifteen,” he says as he slips out the door, giving her a few private moments to shove her apprehensions away.


	131. "I made your favorite." (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

“I said I’m not hungry,” Jemma yells in response to the knock on her bedroom door.

She’s usually more polite than that, but she’s been up since the crack of dawn and she hasn’t eaten since an early lunch. It’s starting to tall a toll on her.

A moment later her brother, the only other person home, jiggles doorknob. It’s locked, though, so it doesn’t budge.

Serves him right for trying to barge in.

“I made your favorite,” he calls back. Lance is a terrible cook, more likely to burn the house down than create something edible. Whatever he’s made, she doesn’t trust it. “Strawberry trifle.”

Dessert. He might actually be capable of that. Jemma’s long-ignored stomach growls at the mention of it.

“I’ll be down later,” she tells him.

She has too much work to do, too many projects she’s juggling. There just aren’t enough hours in the day for all that and regular meals.

She can hear Lance muttering to himself from outside her door. She can’t make out his exact words, but she knows him well enough to assume that they’re foul, descriptive and probably biologically impossible.

He storms down the hall. Good. If she’d know he’d been even clingier than their parents, currently out of town to celebrate their 25th anniversary, she’d dragged all her research to the library.

Jemma checks the clock. 9:32. The library’s closed anyway. Time certainly flied when you’re knee-deep in theory.

Lance’s footsteps thunder back up the hall to her door. One loud click of the doorknob and he barges in, a thin screwdriver in one hand and a bowl of trifle in the other.

“Eat,” he sets the bowl down in front of her.

She pushes it out of the way. She told him she’d get to it. She just wants to finish annotating one more article.

In retaliation, he grabs her laptop, unplugs it, and snaps it shut.

“That’s important research,” she yells. She doesn’t remember backing it up all today. If he’s not careful, he could completely screw her over.

“It’ll be there in the morning,” he says. His voice, usually gruff or teasing, sounds like he’s trying to soothe a baby animal. If Jemma wasn’t so drained, she’d feel condescended to. “You’ve been locked up in here since I woke up. You need to eat, relax, and sleep.”

Jemma glares at him, but she knows there’s not point in trying to pry the laptop out of his hands. Lanc just returned from his first tour of Afghanistan, and even her brains aren’t a match for his brawn.

“At least let me save my work.”

He holds tightly to her computer as she does so, even though she’s not going to try anything.

“There’s leftover pizza in the kitchen,” he tells her after she’s scarfed down the extra large serving of trifle he brought her.

Less than an hour later, when she passes out midway through an episode of The Great British Bake Off, he even carries her back up to her room.


	132. Goo (Team)

They come in guns blazing, expecting the worst. Jemma could be restrained, or tortured, or… no one wants to think of anything worse than that.

What they find is… surprising.

Jemma, in a pristine white lab coat, is bent over a microscope. There’s not a scratch on her.

“Oh good,” she smiles brightly at their entrance. “You found us. Trip walked me through building the locator, but we couldn’t be certain that it worked.”

Trip? Maybe things are worse than they seem. She looks fine physically, but who knows what could have done to her mind.

“Jemma,” May’s the first one to break the silence, her voice calm and low, “Trip is gone. Remember?”

“Not gone.” Jemma insists. “Transformed. I know we all thought he died. But just like Skye, his body chemistry was altered.”

No one wants to get their hopes up. Very few of their dealings with Inhumans have gone well, even after Jiaying’s sect was destroyed.

“So Trip’s an Inhuman?” Coulson asks. It doesn’t make sense. They saw his remains.

Jemma shakes her head, “I don’t think so. His DNA was altered more fundamentally.”

“What do you mean?”

Jemma sighs deeply and points to a clear container a few feet away in her makeshift lab. In it sits what looks like a black liquid, constantly moving and taking new shapes. It’s identical to the one that seemingly swallowed Jemma whole all those months ago.

“I know this sounds impossible, but that is Agent Antoine Triplett.”

In response to her introduction, the goo rearranges itself to form the word ‘Hi’ in neat cursive script.

It’s impressive, but not exactly proof.

“And how do we know that’s Trip?” Fitz breaks his silent observation to say.

It shouldn’t be possible. Such a drastic alteration on the cellular level should have killed him.

Slowly, the black goo rearranges itself to form more words.

Coulson reads out loud, “ Star… Trek… briefs… $50… Etsy… Scotty.”

“Okay, it’s Trip,” Fitz blurts out quickly. He can’t look anyone in the eyes.

“Way too much information, but moving on,” Skye shifts the discussion away from Fitz’s undergarments. “How do we bring him home?”


	133. Hiking (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Remind me why we decided to commune with nature?” Skye collapses onto a large, flat rock.

Fitz frowns, “Expanding our horizons, or some other meaningless platitude.”

“Next time we should expand our horizons somewhere with less tree roots,” Skye rubs at her ankle, which still hurts a bit.

Fitz leans against the closest tree, then immediately steps back from it. There’s slimy moss staining his cardigan. He wipes at it, but it just leaves behind a greenish stain.

“I think our horizons are fine as they are,” he tells her.

“So we can go home now?” Skye gets to her feet.

“We can go home now.”

“Okay,” Skye smirks at him, “but just so we’re clear, you cracked first.”

Fitz snorts, and turns to walk back the way we came, “You’re the one who tripped over a tree root.”

“And I kept going,” Skye insists, limping slightly as she catches up to him, “because I am stronger, more competent.”

“Oh really?” Fitz asks. “Then you can guide us back to the car.”

“Whatever,” Skye dismisses him. “Just give me the GPS.”

Fitz shakes his head and sticks the small device into his pocket.

“I built this,” he tells her. “With my strength and competence. You can use the map.”


	134. Flannel (Leo Fitz/Skye)

Fitz is pretty sure Hunter’s been looking at him strangle out of the corner of his eye for the last half hour. It’s weird, and Fitz is starting to feel self-conscious.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, finally fed up.

“Isn’t that Skye’s shirt?” Lance asks.

Fitz looks down at the blue and gray flannel covering his torso.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

When he woke up this morning, his own shirt was all wrinkled. It was easier to grab this one out of Skye’s closet than walk all the way back to his room. His caffeine craving couldn’t wait that long.

Besides, it’s not like it’s dirty. It still smells like laundry detergent.

“Fine,” Lance excuses himself to go back to target practice.

Fitz runs his hands down his side. How does Skye manage to keep her clothes so plush? None of his shirts are this warm. He makes a mental note to check what fabric softener she uses, and then grab some to experiment.


	135. Haunted House (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

“If you get scared, feel free to hold onto me,” Trip tells her. He’s grinning his usual flirtatious grin, and Jemma’s wondering, yet again, how a man can seem so at ease in every situation.

She eyes the warehouse in front of them with disdain. If the outdoor decorations are any decorations are any indication, this haunted house will fail to impress.

Of course nothing can compare to the haunted house back The Academy. Dozens o scientific geniuses working together on one project can be a clash of egos, but it also produced an environment that scared the living daylights out of everyone who entered.

Jemma thinks even Trip would have lost his cool in that haunted house.

As expected, this one is a lame mixture of cardboard headstones and blood that looks far too runny to pass for real.

That doesn’t mean Jemma can’t find her own source of fun.

The first time a surprise shriek erupts from a poorly concealed speaker, Jemma grabs onto Trip’s (defined, muscular) arm.

He instinctively wraps it around her shoulder and pulls her in close.

It’s quite nice.

Jemma keeps this up as they continue on, curling closer into his chest at every evil laugh and every monster jumping out that them from behind a corner.

By the time they exit, he’s practically carrying her.

Jemma blinks at the harsh sunlight of the parking lot, and Trip helps her steady herself on her feet.

“Girl,” he looks down at her with an amused grin, “you are transparent. Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of cider before you maul me next time.”


	136. Pumpkin Spice (Jemma Simmons/Bobbi Morse)

Jemma takes a sip and wrinkles her nose, before passing the paper cup back to Bobbi.

“That’s not coffee, that’s dessert,” she comments.

Bobbi smiles knowingly. Every time Jemma tries her fall coffee of choice, she says that, yet every time they get morning coffee on their way into the lab, Jemma asks for a taste.

So Bobbi’s used to it by know. She even swapped out Jemma’s tea for her own latte on morning just to see how Jemma would react.

(As it turns out, Jemma’s too reliant on morning tea for her own good. Bobbi almost didn’t get her coffee that morning because Jemma almost through it in the trash.)

Jemma Simmons love pumpkin pie, and spice cookies, and spiced cider and pretty every single autumn-themed baked good that Bobbi can find on the Internet.

But she acts like pumpkin spice lattes are some sort of affront to nature.

Lucky for Bobbi, Jemma also has plenty of good qualities to make up for her coffee snobbery.


	137. Corn Maze (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“Does that even really qualify as a corn maze?” Fitz asks in regards to the scene before them.

If anything it’s a corn tunnel or maybe just a corn path. It’s so small, there’s no way anyone’s getting lost in it.

But they’ve already paid fives bucks for it, so they’re going to try to.

“What if we did it with our eyes closed?” Skye suggests.

They try that, and Skye nearly runs over a five year old. Fitz goes toe to toe with the kid’s mother, who had no problem ignoring her child in favor of her cell phone, but sees fit to blame the entire incident on Skye.

She actually throws a miniature pumpkin at them.

Needless to say, they scurry out of there and back to their waiting car.

“Do you think we can sneak back to the pumpkin patch?” Skye asks once they’ve caught their breath.

“Let’s give it a minute, she’ll probably forget what we look like,” Fitz tells her.

He doesn’t want to leave without trying the grilled corn and hot cider.


	138. Warm Sweaters (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“You know Coulson’s going to be hurt that you didn’t get him anything,” Fitz remarks as he examines the gift Skye brought him.

It’s not wrapped, it’s not even folded nicely, just balled up and thrown in a plastic bag, but he does really like it.

“Coulson’s not much of a cardigan guy, though,” Skye says.

“I saw a Captain America jumper online, I’m thinking about getting it for him for Christmas,” Fitz admits.

Skye laughs, “I’m not sure what would win out, his commitment to suits or his commitment to Steve Rogers.”

Fitz tugs his sweater over his head and then slides his arms into the charcoal gray wool of Skye’s cardigan. He flexes his arms. Not too tight.

And it’s warm, which is always good. Jemma likes working in an icebox, and he gave up on arguing with her about it years ago.

“It’s perfect,” he declares. “The only thing better would be if you visited more often.”

Skye sighs, “Trust me, if I could, I would.”


	139. "It looks good on you." (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“It looks good on you.”

The disbelief is pretty clear on Jemma’s face.

“You know, spies are usually better liars,” she replies.

Bobbi rolls her eyes, “I’m not lying; I’m just biased.”

“And territorial,” Jemma comments.

Bobbi laughs, “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

So she likes it when her girlfriend steals her clothes. Seeing tiny Jemma draped in one of her own sweaters makes Bobbi feel good.

“You’re like a dog marking its territory,” Jemma explains. “Only instead of urine, you’re using angora wool, and a jumper that is at least two sizes larger than I normally wear.”

“Hey, that is a four hundred dollar sweater,” Bobbi informs her. “I do not appreciate you comparing it to dog piss.”

Jemma crinkles her nose and looks down at the sweater, “Who spends four hundred dollars on a shirt?”

Someone who moves in interesting circles and sometimes has to convince a bunch of egotistical jackasses that she’s a harmless social clumber.”

Jemma’s seen Bobbi at work, so she finds it hard to believe the other woman could ever pass as harmless.

Still, her eyes light up with mirth, “I bet that’s a fun story. How many broken bones?”

Bobbi frowns, “No broken bones. Just a bunch of bruised egos and a couple of cracked ribs. They really weren’t fighters.”

Now that Jemma can picture easily.


	140. Jack o' Lantern (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“You know, for a guy who works with scalpels regularly, I thought you’d be better at this,” Skye teases. “That’s a third-grade attempt.”

Lincoln rolls his eyes, “Just do your own work before you start trash talking mine.”

Skye still has to carve out the stenciled in nose on her own jack-o-lantern.

It’s some of her best work, if she can say so herself. Last year’s Hogwarts crest had too many small details, it took her days to do and caved in on itself before Fitz could be pick a winner.

This year, she decided to scale things back.

After all, the scary face pumpkin is a classic. And with her expertly rendered pointy teeth, Skye knows it’ll scare plenty of the kids who walk by the house they’re using as a temporary base.

She can feel Lincoln’s eyes on the back of her neck and she puts the finishing touches on her pumpkin. He’s probably hoping she’ll screw it up so he can take the victory.

Not a chance.

“Ta da!” she says turning it around so he can get a good look at her effort. “Face it, your cloud just can’t compare.”

Seriously? Who above the age of eight cuts a cloud into their jack-o-lantern? It’s like he gave her the victory.

Lincoln just says, “Light your candle and turn off the lights.”

Skye obliges. With the only light coming from the streetlight outside the kitchen window, her pumpkin looks perfectly spooky.

No light shines from Lincoln’s pumpkin for a few moments.

Then it lights up with little streaks of lightning. They bounce around the cloud cut-out for a few seconds, the spike down the front of the pumpkin’s thick skin.

It looks really cool.

It’s totally unfair.

“Next year, no powers,” Skye says with a sigh, reaching into her pocket for the twenty dollars she now owes him.


	141. Halloween Costumes (Leo Fitz/Skye)

“You can stop scowling,” Skye resists the urge to stick him with a pin.

“I will stop scowling when you stop making me scowl,” Fitz says, his scowl actually deepening.

“Oh come one, it’s fun,” Skye protests. “Halloween is fun.”

“We had a Halloween party once—“

“Once?” Skye asks.

“It’s not a big deal in Scotland like it is here,” Fitz explains.

“That sounds depressing,” Skye says.

“No, what’s depressing is a bunch of kids calling you Leo the Cowardly Lion for two years,” he grumbles.

“Are you having war flashbacks?” Skye teases, fluffing up the fur on his mane.

“It was a traumatic experience,” he argues.

“Well this time it will be fun,” Skye insists. “I bet you didn’t have a sexy lion tamer back then.”

He glares at her, “I was a child.”


	142. Baking (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

Skye’s just about to dump the measuring cup out into the bowl when Lincoln rips it from her hands.

“You need to sift it first,” he tells her.

“And you need to learn to use your words,” she tells him, pulling her arm gingerly into her chest like he’s hurt it.

His face softens.

“Why don’t you rest your hand and I’ll just finish up,” he tells her.

“That was the first ingredient,” Skye looks at him knowingly.

He mumbles something under his breath, but the only part she catches is “Jemma.”

“Can you repeat that?” she asks.

“Jemma says you’re a terrible baker,” he says more clearly.

“Well Jemma is a tyrant,” Skye puts her hands on her hips.

“And Mack will hate me even more if we make him a crappy cake,” Lincoln reasons.

Skye doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Mack will hate him regardless.

“If it means that much to you, I’ll just fetch the ingredients,” Skye tells him.

Because really, the less work she has to do, the better.

“Okay grab me the baking powder,” Lincoln instructs her. She grabs the little yellow box out of the cupboard. “No this is baking soda.”

And that’s how she ends up relegated to licking the spoon.


	143. Matching Costumes (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

Jemma greets Skye with a wrinkle of her nose, “How do you bend over in that?”

“I don’t,” Skye tells her, “unless I want to give someone a very nice view. So do me a favor and grab me a beer so I don’t flash the guys standing next to us.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, but she does bend over and grab a can of beer out of the cardboard box on the floor.

“I sincerely hope you get laid tonight,” Jemma says as she presses the can into Skye’s hand. “Mostly so I don’t have to hear you talking about your dry-spell anymore, but also because anyone who spend an entire evening in those shoes deserves some kind of reward.”

Jemma’s wearing heels too, but they’re shorter and actually match her flapper costume, whereas no nurse would be caught dead in Skye’s platform heels.

Or her dress for that matter. But no cat would wear anything like what Bobbi just walked by in, either. That’s the fun of Halloween.

“It’s been six months,” Skye whines. If she knew breaking things off with her jackass ex would have led to six months riding solo, she… totally still would have done it.

But that all ends tonight, as long as everything goes according to plan. And since this plan was whipped up with the help of her two genius roommates, it’s almost guaranteed to be a success.

“I know,” Jemma says. “Everyone knows.”

Skye shrugs. It’s not like Jemma’s bashful about sex, either.

“You’re sure he’ll be here?” Skye asks.

Jemma nods.

“And you’re sure he’ll be dressed appropriately?”

“I’m pretty sure Fitz would tie Lincoln down and physically change his clothes if it meant getting you to shut up about the things you want to do to him,” Jemma says.

Skye smiles innocently. She knows she hasn’t traumatized Fitz, as much as he grumbles about it.

She’s about to beg Jemma for more reassurance when the door to Trip’s apartment opens and in walks the object of her affections.

Fitz comes in first, easily spotted thanks to the brightly colored Dr. Who scarf he’s wearing. She’s pretty sure the cardigan and shirt he’s wearing with it are just his normal clothes, though. He’s not very enthusiastic about Halloween.

Her eyes quickly move past him to Lincoln, dressed exactly as planned in powder blue scrubs.

Bingo.

Jemma crosses the party quickly, to drag Fitz away using some excuse too laden with scientific terminology for even a med student to follow.

Skye waits by the par.

“What’s up, doc?” she asks, when Lincoln finally appears. He looks a little bit bewildered by Fitz’s sudden disappearance.

It’s a terrible pick up line, and maybe in the morning she’ll be embarrassed about using it. Lucky for her, Lincoln seems to be too busy staring at her breasts to care.

Yeah, she’s definitely breaking her dry-spell tonight.


	144. Haunted House (Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons)

“I am a trained spy for one of the most elite organizations in the world,” Bobbi says, approaching Jemma with a look of disbelief on her face.

“That is true,” Jemma replies, smirking.

“I have been through things that would break most people. I have seen things that are so horrible, I don’t even like to think about them.”

Jemma knows she probably shouldn’t smile through that, but she can’t help herself. She knows where this is going.

“Yet somehow,” Bobbi continues, “that haunted house scared the crap out of me.”

Jemma shrugs, pretending to be humble, “What can I say? I am a truly gifted individual.”

Also, she and Fitz have been working on this project on and off since their Academy days. Of course it was brilliant.

“More like a truly twisted individual,” Bobbi remarks.

Jemma doesn’t deny it. She has a dark side; she’s come to terms with it. Using it to create a truly frightening haunted house is a safe way to indulge it.

“You love it,” Jemma teases.

“I do,” Bobbi agrees. “I’m sure that says something really messed up about me, but I do.”


	145. Flannel Shirts (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

He’s a little surprised when eh wakes up and she’s not lying next to him. Jemma’s definitely an early riser, but so is he. His confusion is short lived, though, when he notices quiet sounds coming from the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Jemma bumps the bedroom door open with her hip, clad only in one of his flannel shirts. She must have pulled it out of his closet. She’s balancing a full tray of food in her hands.

“I could get used to this,” Trip fold his arms behind his head and leans back against the pillows he’s propped up on the headboard. “Beautiful girl wearing my clothes, making me breakfast.”

Jemma smiles and lays the food down at the edge of the bed.

Omelettes. She made omelettes. He’d be bothered that they look even better than his, if they didn’t also look delicious.

He’s grabbing one of the plates when both of their phones start beeping simultaneously.

He sighs; she mumbles, “shit” under her breath.

“The morning call to action,” she muses, shoveling food into her mouth as she gets off her bed. “I could do without it every now and again.”

“Tell me about it,” he commiserates.

He checks his phone. The message is short on details, but it does say to report to base as soon as possible.

They dress in hurry, trying to eat as they go. They leave the dirty dishes in his sink. He’ll do them tonight, if he actually makes it home tonight.

“You want a ride?” she offers, jingling her keys in her hand. “Or are we still pretending no one knows we’re together?”

Trip grins, “Only if you promise to stop for coffee.”

He has a feeling it’s going to be a long day.


	146. Cross My Heart (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

It should worry her that he’s so easy to track down in the end. After all, if she can find him in that seedy motel five minutes from the hospital he used to work at, then Lash and the ATCU probably can too.

Instead she’s just relieved. Maybe she can convince him to join her team this time.

She leaves Mack back on the base just to be polite. It should make things go a little more smoothly.

Lincoln answers the door when she knocks. He looks clean, if not clean-shaven, and the two suitcases shoved in the corner of the room make it clear he didn’t have to leave everything he owned behind.

That’s a good thing.

Hopefully that also means he doesn’t see her as the woman who ruined the new life he’d built for himself.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes anyway. 

She hadn’t intended to, but he just looks so lost. She knows she played a role in that.

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbles. Then, a little louder, “I know you had nothing to with it. You try to help, in your own way.”

In her own way. That’s not exactly encouraging. She’d like him to work with her. She wants it to be his way, too.

“If it helps, Coulson can probably hook you up with a new identity,” she offers. “One that’s licensed to practice medicine.”

“So this can happen all over again?” Lincoln snaps. “So I can get more people killed?”

Of course he feels responsible. He may be willing to let her off the hook for what Lash did, but he won’t extend himself the same kindness. Just like he blames himself for Jiaying.

She understands that completely.

“It’s not your fault either,” she tells him, even though she knows he won’t believe her.

“I took an oath,” he tells her, “to do no harm. But that’s exactly what I brought with me.”

“No, that’s exactly what Lash brought with him,” she corrects him. “You couldn’t have anticipated that.”

Lincoln shrugs helplessly, refusing to admit she’s right, “Maybe. But I can’t risk it happening again.”

She wants to tell him that the only way they can guarantee that is to get rid of Lash permanently. And she can’t do that if she’s the only Inhuman who has been deemed fit for active duty.

She needs his help.

But they’ve had that conversation before, although not with this particular threat hanging over their heads.

“So what’ll you do?” she asks. Hopefully she can find some way to help him.

“I worked in a coffee shop in college,” he says. “I hear Starbucks has great healthcare.”

That sounds like a complete waste.

“Come work for Shield,” she offers. Maybe now he’ll reconsider.

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m done using my powers. They’ve caused plenty of harm already.”

“Fine,” she says. “No powers. Be a doctor.”

“You have doctors.”

“Not with your knowledge of Inhumans,” she argues. “You could help them, make sure they don’t get taken advantage of.”

The ‘like you were’ isn’t said, but it hovers silently between them.

He’s quiet for a bit, then asks, “No powers?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she says. “How’s that for an oath.”

She needs to try something to break the depressing mood in the room.

She’s hoping hat once he sees the good her Secret Warriors are capable of doing, he’ll change his mind about using his abilities.

In the meantime, she’ll take his help any way she can get it. Mack’s bedside manner leaves something to be desired.

“I’ll consider it,” Lincoln says.

She winces. That wasn’t the response she was hoping for.

“Fair enough,” she nods. “You know how to reach me?”

He fishes a scrap of paper out of his pocket. It’s been months since she gave it to him with the number for a burner phone scrawled on it.

She thinks it’s a good sign that he’s kept it.

“Good,” she tells him, getting to her feet.

There isn’t anything to say as he lets her out into the parking lot.

Even if he doesn’t take her up on the offer, she hopes he figures something out. He deserves better than this.


	147. Regret (Leo Fitz/Alphonso Mackenzie)

“Did you help with this?” Fitz asks, holding up the near-empty bottle of vodka he woke up to find himself cuddling.

Mack shakes his head, “I had two beers, that was all you.”

It was kind of weird to watch. He’d try to be the responsible one, but he was no match for Skye’s enabling tendencies. Instead he’d settled for moving all the breakable objects into the hall closet.

Fitz had still decided that the lampshade would make an excellent hat. 

Fitz considers the bottle in his hands.

“Is it weird that I’m impressed with myself?” he asks.

Mack just shakes his head. Fitz is a small guy, he doesn’t doubt for a second that all that alcohol will come back to bite him in the ass.

And it does, two seconds later, when Fitz attempts to get to his feet.

“Fuck,” he moans, struggling to find balance while also clutching his aching head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He manages to make it two steps before curling up on the floor.

Mack has to pick him up and set him down in front of the toilet

Good thing he bough the big bottle of aspirin last time he went to the drugstore.


	148. Bed (Team Merc)

Izzy’s half asleep when her phone rings on the nightstand. She considers ignoring it, but she can’t risk waking Hunter or Idaho.

“It’s four in the morning,” she whispers testily without checking who’s on the other end.

“Well how am I supposed to know that,” the voice on the other end replies.

Victoria. She definitely shouldn’t have answered. Not after the way they left things two weeks ago.

“Is there something I can help you with,” Izzy does her best to sound businesslike, but that’s always been a struggle with Vic.

“Are the bozos around?” Vic asks. She never did like Izzy’s taste in teammates, mostly because she wanted her back in Shield’s ranks.

“They’re asleep,” Izzy tells her.

“In the room?”

“On the floor,” she elaborates.

“And you’re?” Victoria asks.

“Hoping to enjoy having a king sized bed all to myself, if I ever get off the phone,” Izzy retorts.

“I assume they didn’t just give you that,” Victoria says. 

Izzy’s surprised she’d give them that much credit.

“I told them they could fight over it,” Izzy explains. “And when they wore each other out, I pushed them onto the floor.”

That probably won’t work every time, but a part of her just needed to prove it was possible.


	149. Cactus (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

In theory, having his sister come to visit should have been pleasant.

For one thing, they hadn’t seen each other in months. Yeah, they talked on the phone, but it wasn’t the same and he really missed her.

Also, she cooked. Really well. And as someone who lived off prepackaged frozen meals and takeout, a home cooked meal was pretty much the best thing ever.

But Jemma was a scientist, and the kind of scientist who tended to bring her work home with her.

Or in this case, into his microwave.

“Jem,” Lance yells from the kitchen. “Why is there a cactus in my microwave?”

“It’s not a cactus,” she yells back from her spot on the couch.

Then what the hell is it?

“I need to heat up this pie,” he tells her.

He may not be the expert cook that Jemma is, but he has managed to source the best blueberry pie in a one hour radius.

“One second,” she says. “Let me move it.”

He was confused when she told him it wasn’t a cactus, but when she walks into his kitchen wearing rubber gloves and a surgical mask, he’s downright terrified.

This had better not kill him.


	150. Blind Date (Jemma Simmons/Bobbi Morse)

Jemma doesn’t usually get nervous on dates. Or if she does, it’s because she’s worried the person will be boring or rude or something else awful.

But tonight she changes her outfit three times before checking the time on her phone and rushing out the door.

Fitz swears he’s found the perfect woman for her. Tall, blonde, funny, and smart enough to impress even Fitz.

Maybe Jemma should be more worried that she’s a figment of his imagination.

But sure enough, there’s a gorgeous blonde waiting alone at a table when Jemma arrives at the small Italian restaurant she’s driven past a hundred times but never noticed.

“Bobbi?” Jemma asks hesitantly as she approaches the table. After all, she could be someone else. She could be waiting on someone else.

The woman stands to greet her, “Jemma?” Jemma nods. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Fitz has told me so much about you.”

“Really, you should only believe about half of it,” Jemma tells her.

(She’s heard her friend Skye use that one before, and it sounds way less awkward. Like Fitz would say anything about her that’s worse then her tendency to micromanage the workspace they share.)

“So you’re not a beautiful genius who anyone would be lucky to date?” Bobbi replies. “Could have fooled me.”

Jemma can’t help but blush at that. Clearly Bobbi is much smoother than her.

She smiles and takes a seat across from Bobbi, who gives her a moment to browse the menu before the waiter appears.

He has a thick Italian accent, and greets Bobbi with a kiss on the cheek that makes it clear he knows her pretty well.

Jemma orders the vegetable lasagna, and a glass of the first red wine she sees on the list.

Jemma can’t be sure what Bobbi’s ordering, because she does it in flawless (to Jemma’s ears anyway) Italian.

If anyone else had done that, Jemma would think they were showing off. And maybe Bobbi is. But Jemma can’t help but be thrilled that someone like Bobbi would want to impress her.

And when the waiter returns with a full bottle of the wine Jemma ordered and two glasses, Jemma finds herself torn between hanging on Bobbi’s every word and sneaking off to the bathroom to send Fitz and thank you text.


	151. Snuggling on the Couch (Jemma Simmons/Bobbi Morse)

“Please tell me you chose something good,” Bobbi comments, setting the freshly popped popcorn on the table next to Jemma’s sangria.

Jemma can smell the buttery goodness from her spot on the couch. She could probably eat the entire bowl by herself if she really wanted to.

It’s been that kind of week.

“I always choose something good,” she replies, offended.

“Nature documentaries,” is all Bobbi says.

Jemma loves nature documentaries. She loves them too much.

“You know you love the little babies,” she reminds Bobbi.

And it’s true. The baby animals, from penguins, to leopards, to snow owls, are so cute it makes Bobbi want to punch something.

“Until they get ripped to pieces by whatever predator’s lurking behind the bushes,” Bobbi retorts.

She gently nudges Jemma the edge of the couch and slides in behind her. She made sure to buy the deepest sofa she could find, specifically for end of the week cuddling.

Jemma shifts so she’s lying half on top of Bobbi, like a living blanket. Then she pulls the actual blanket, a ratty throw that might have once been Mack’s over both of them. Then she grabs the popcorn while Bobbi wriggles one arm out from underneath her.

As long as she can grab her drink, and sip it over Jemma’s head, then she’ll be good for a few hours.

Even if she has to watch the baby antelope get killed by the lionesses again.

“So what horror will be unfolding tonight?” she teases, now that they’re both situated.

Jemma presses play, “Cinderella.”

“Cinderella?”

“The live action one from the nineties,” Jemma clarifies. “Skye said it’s good, and I could use some escapist fantasy tonight.”

Bobbi sighs contentedly. It’s nice to get a happy ending every once in a while.


	152. Vacation (Lincoln Campbell/Daisy Johnson)

The moment she steps off the jet, her entire posture relaxes.

“You look… calm,” Lincoln notes immediately.

Daisy shrugs, “I’m on vacation.”

He chuckles, “We’re here investigating three possible Inhumans. This isn’t a vacation.”

He heads out of the clearing they’re parked in and towards the town the evidence indicates these Inhumans are living in.

Daisy follows, albeit at a much slower pace.

“Yeah, but they actually seem to have a grip on their powers,” she tells him. “We only know they exist because you know the right people. There’s no crumbling buildings or dead bodies to deal with. That’s vacation enough for me.”

“Don’t let Coulson hear you,” Lincoln jokes, stopping to let her catch up with him. “He might think you’re less than thrilled with your current team.”

“First of all,” Skye begins, “I am thrilled with my current team, even if it’s only got three members who are currently cleared for work. And second of all,” she grins, “I turned off my comm.”

Lincoln arches his brows in surprise, “You’re breaking the rules?”

There’s an undertone of bitterness to his words; he hasn’t really come to trust Coulson much more in the last couple of months. But it’s at least half playful, which seems like a tiny improvement.

“I’m enjoying Hawaii,” she replies. “For at least an hour.”

“That’s not much of a vacation,” Lincoln says.

She knows. She’s been dreaming of white sand and warm water. She’s even started a Pinterest board full of tropical destinations she swears she’ll go to if she ever gets a day off.

“Yeah, but it’s what we’ve got,” she shrugs. “And when you question it, you kind of kill the fantasy.”


	153. Xerox (Skye, Bobbi & Jemma)

As it turns out, Daisy’s lack of a functioning team becomes a problem for everyone.

When she and Mack are out in the field, tracking down whichever terrified by potentially deadly Inhuman they’ve managed to locate, things on the base are more peaceful.

At least compared to the simmering tension that practically radiates off of Daisy when she’s stuck just waiting for something to happen.

Everyone who comes in contact with her can tell that she’s restless, anxious, ready to move forward.

The walls don’t shake, the windows aren’t at risk of shattering; her control’s too good for that. But most of the staff admit to avoiding her whenever possible because her bad mood feels contagious.

Ultimately, it’s Jemma who takes it upon herself to bring this up to Daisy.

She knows it’s been a rough few months (if anyone knows that it’s Jemma), but this Daisy is so unlike her usual self that it worries her.

They talk for a few hours, and somehow Jemma finds herself agreeing to a girls’ night in with plenty of alcohol. She commits Bobbi to it as well, without even acting.

The next morning Jemma can’t remember much, but there are Xerox copies of Skye’s ass posted all over her meticulously organized lab. And one of the copy machines has been thrown clear across the room.

There’s only one person with the ability to do that.

The three of them wait tensely for an angry call from maintenance, or even Coulson.

It doesn’t come.

It seems that everyone’s more happy with Daisy’s calmer mood, than they are upset over broken machinery.


	154. Library AU (Lincoln Campbell/Skye)

“He’s cute,” Skye nods in the direction of a guy she’s seen around campus a few times.

Jemma doesn’t look up from her notes. She’s used to Skye’s attempts to initiate frequent study breaks, and she’s not having it tonight. There’s too much work to get done.

Skye huffs and turns back to her computer, but a couple minutes later she finds her attention wandering again.

He really is cute. He’s tall, and blond, slender, but not skinny by any means. He also has the habit of looking more awake at 8 AM than anyone should be able to.

She hopes that’s because he’s already had coffee. There’s only room for one cheery morning person, and Jemma has already filled that spot.

“Jem, he has a chemistry textbook,” Skye notices upon further investigation. “Do you know him?”

Reluctantly, Jemma tears her eyes away from her work. Skye can be persistent, and sometimes it’s better to just indulge her, rather than let her nag on and on.

“Lincoln,” Jemma says quietly. “He’s in my cell bio class. I think he’s pre-med.”

“So he’s smart, then?” Skye asks.

Jemma shrugs, “Not as smart as me.”

It’s a point of pride. There are few people in the entire university who are as smart as Jemma Simmons, and Skye includes professors in that estimation.

“Okay, but that’s a given,” Skye says, knowing that flattery is one of Jemma’s true weaknesses.

“I don’t know how smart he is,” Jemma admits. “It’s a lecture class, and I don’t sit anywhere near him to see his grades. Now get back to work.”

“But I need caffeine,” Skye says, a cross between a whisper and a whine. “I’m losing focus.”

Jemma snorts. Skye’s focus is long gone.

“Then go get caffeine,” Jemma replies.

She turns back to her studies as Skye rises from the table. She doesn’t think much of it until she hears Skye speaking to someone behind her.

“Hi, I’m Skye,” she says. Jemma whips her head around to indulge her curiosity. Of course Skye is introducing herself to Lincoln. “I need coffee and my friend Jemma is refusing to take a break. Any chance I can talk you into accompanying me.”

At first, Lincoln just looks confused. Then he locks eyes with Jemma and gives her a questioning look.

Skye can’t see Jemma mouth the words, ‘Just go with it,’ but she certainly hopes her friend is performing her de facto wingman duties admirably.

Lincoln considers her offer for a second, with a long on her face that makes it seem like he’s considering running away entirely.

Then he smiles, an expression which Skye notices makes him look younger, and really approachable.

“I could do coffee,” he tells her. “I assume that since you’re asking me, you’re paying?”

She chuckles. Bold. She likes him already.

“Only if you can pack up before I pass out,” she jokes.


	155. Fine (Leo Fitz/Daisy Johnson)

“You look beautiful, but you don’t look fine.”

“You know,” Daisy says, the corners of her mouth turning up just the slightest bit, “coming from anyone else that would just sound creepy.”

Fitz shrugs, “That’s my super power, being sincere enough to make any awkwardness tolerable.”

Daisy considers that for a moment, then nods in agreement. She can buy into that.

“Sounds useful,” she tells him.

“It is when the other person isn’t trying to dodge the question,” he says bluntly.

Maybe she should add ‘seeing through bullshit’ to his list of super powers.

“This just isn’t what I thought it would be,” she comments.

“The actual super powers?” he asks. “Or something else.”

Daisy throws her hands up in frustration, “All of it. The super powers, SHIELD, the Secret Warriors. You know… life.”

Fitz nods in understanding, then takes a seat on the bench next to her. Whatever evil their hosts were up to, it didn’t change the fact that their garden was lovely. And surprisingly empty, considering the number of guests at this party.

“I thought I was going to work in a lab forever,” he tells her.

She does remember that. It’s funny to think that there was a time when he was apprehensive about going out into the field.

“And?” she says.

“And sometimes I wish I was still there,” he admits. “On occasion. Rarely. But the point it, things don’t always work out the way you plan them. You know that.”

She does. At least most of the time. Tonight, the first piece of legitimately spy work she’s done in months, is apparently one of those off days.

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll get through this,” she guesses.

“What I’m saying is that tomorrow, or next week, or three hours from now, you’ll struggle to believe we actually had this conversation.”

He’s probably right. Yesterday she loved this job. She was desperate to work more.

Today’s just a fluke.

Still, it’s good to be reminded of that.


	156. Movies (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sibling AU

No matter how many times she catches him doing it, Jemma still finds it weird.

Not because she thinks it’s inappropriate for men to cry (she lived with Fitz in college, that alone would have disabused her of the notion if she’d had it), but because it’s totally bizarre for anyone to cry like.

Lance’s movie of choice for the night is A Walk to Remember (if a Nicholas Sparks movie is on in the household it’s a sure sign that he and Bobbi have broken up again).

She’d can’t see his face, he’s wrapped up in the duvet from his bed like a human burrito. Sometimes she wonders how he can actually see the movie like that (or, you know, breathe), but he must be able to.

Because right now she can hear the high pitched keening that is her older brother crying. She’s pretty sure it’s also a spot in impersonation of a hyena.

Quickly, Jemma pours herself a bowl of cereal and escapes back into her room. Not only are Lance’s crying noises weird, but they’re loud. One floor and a tightly closed door are necessities if she’s going to get any work done.

She does set a timer on her phone, though. In about fifteen minutes, she’ll have to go unroll him from his blanket burrito. He has the bad habit of falling asleep in there and nearly suffocating himself.


	157. Fall (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

Jemma had been hoping for a white Christmas, but this was ridiculous. It’s been snowing for two days straight and, according to the weather report, there are no signs of it stopping.

She’s just glad she stocked up on chocolate bars and marshmallows, because it looks like it’s going to be a cozy holiday.

The lab is closed, her car is buried under a pile of snow, she had to bail on Skye’s Christmas Eve Eve party, so the least she can do is change into her pajamas and start shaving the giant chocolate bar in her cupboard for hot chocolate.

Jemma is as methodical in her cooking as she is in her work at the lab, so she shaves down two large chocolate bars and wipes them into a canister. This way she won’t have to do it again before New Years.

She’s taking a break to rest her sore arm, when she sees something streak by her window, followed by a loud thud.

She rushes to the window, peaks out, and there’s a human being lying face up in the snow.

“Are you alright?” she yells through the closed window.

Whoever it is clearly can’t hear her.

Jemma hurries to pull on her snow boots and winter coat, before rushing out the front door.

“Are you alright?” she repeats as she approaches the man lying in the snow.

She should have stopped for her gloves and a scarf, before running out here, but she was far too worried for that.

The man groans, and she can see him shake snow off each of his arms, then each of his legs.

“So far, so good,” he says, in the familiar voice of her upstairs neighbor.

Jemma’s never met him before, but sometimes in the summer she can hear him making phone calls from his balcony.

(Not that she eavesdrops, she just happens to enjoy the relaxing outside as much as he does.)

She’s standing directly above him as he twists his neck, checking for more injuries.

“I think I’ll live,” he tells her. “Help me up?”

She extends a hand, already freezing cold, to help him up. He hisses as he does so, clearly in pain even if nothing seems to be seriously wrong.

Jemma helps guide him inside to her apartment. She has a bit of medical training, she’d feel more comfortable if she took a look at him.

Once they’re inside, she helps him strip off his coat and boots and gloves, then directs him into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Where does it hurt most?” she asks, concerned.

“Left shoulder and hip,” he says.

She gently prods at his shoulder. He flinches, but it doesn’t seem like anything is damaged. The same goes for his hip.

“I think you’ll live,” she pronounces.

“Good to know.”

“Although how you feel off the balcony is beyond me,” she says.

He sighs, “I was hanging lights and I lost my balance.”

“You were hanging lights in the middle of a snowstorm?” she admonishes him.

“I’ve been bogged down with work all week and my mom is coming into town tomorrow,” he explains. “I had to get them up at some point.”

Jemma’s lights have been up since the day after Thanksgiving, since it’s not like she had any family in town for the holiday.

“I’m sure your mother would rather forgo the lights than have you fall to your death,” she points out.

“I hadn’t planned on falling,” he explains.

She certainly hopes he hadn’t.

“At least you had all that snow to cushion your fall,” she replies.

It’s probably why he’s still in one piece.

“And you to drag my ass inside to I don’t freeze to death,” he tells her.

“You’re welcome.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma spots the canister of chocolate shavings waiting on the kitchen table. Now, more than ever, she could use a mug of hot chocolate.

“Well I know I wouldn’t mind a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Do you want one?” she offers.

“With the fancy real chocolate?” he nods towards her chocolate shavings. “Absolutely.”

“Well, I don’t make food for strangers, so you’ll have to tell me your name,” Jemma responds, suddenly realizing she’s dragged a virtual stranger into her apartment.

“Antoine Triplett,” he holds out a cold hand to shake. “But you can call me Trip.”


	158. Drunken Caroling (Jemma Simmons & Lance Hunter)

“No,” Jemma says firmly, hoping that will be enough to dissuade Lance.

“Why not?” he says.

“Because it’s a terrible idea,” she replies.

As are at least 90% of all his other ideas. Last Christmas, she talked Fitz into messing with one of those stuffed reindeer that played Christmas carols, and re-recording it so that it played a loop of her saying “absolutely not,” “that’s a terrible idea,” and “you should be ashamed for even suggesting that,” every time someone touched it.

She found it in the bin on New Years Day.

“Mum always said I had a great voice, Lance argues.

“All mums think their children have great singing voices,” Jemma tells him, “that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Jem, it’s Christmas,” he pleads with her. “It’s Christmas and we’re both pitifully single, and if I sit around your flat for another night, drinking heavily spiked rum my brain might actually explode. So put on your coat and start warming up your voice.”

Jemma wants to tell him that there’s nothing pitiful about the way she’s single. Just because he’s taking the latest breakup with Bobbi poorly (as usual), doesn’t mean everyone else feels the need to be attached at Christmas.

But he’s already upstairs, probably grabbing that obnoxious blinking Santa hat from three years ago.

Jemma sighs and gets up off the couch.

He’s going to do this with or without her, the least she can do is redirect his frustrations towards a healthier target.

“I will go with you,” she announces he comes downstairs with his boots on and his coat in one hand.

“Awesome.”

“But we will not stand under Bobbi’s window, pathetically serenading her until her neighbors threaten to call the police,” Jemma warns him.

Lance grimaces.

“Then where exactly will we be going?” Lance asks. “And don’t say the park or the garbage dump or anywhere else where no person with any life will actually be.”

Jemma smiles, “We’ll go to Skye’s. She’ll make me hot chocolate, and she’ll videotape you making a complete fool of yourself, and tomorrow morning I’ll make you watch it and hopefully you won’t try for a repeat performance next year.”

Lance considers her offer for a moment, then nods.

“Fine, but only if you sing alone with me.”


	159. Booby Trapped (Antoine Triplett/Jemma Simmons)

The fact that Jemma’s wearing gloves outside of the lab should be the first sign, but he just dismisses it as a combination of absentmindedness and long hours.

Then she takes them off, and her hands are blue. Bright blue. The kind of blue that the whatever chemical Fitz gave him would turn them.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Trip crosses his arms over his chest and looks expectantly at her.

Jemma narrows her eyes at him.

“On that you are a terrible person.”

“I’m not the one who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong,” he counters with a laugh.

She looks so put out.

“Who booby traps Christmas presents?” Jemma whines.

“A guy whose girlfriend tries to sneak a peak every year,” he tells her.

Jemma doesn’t even blush, she just reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“I like the sweater, by the way,” she whispers in his ear. “Very me.”

“I just hope you didn’t get dye all over it.”


End file.
